Border of Taboo
by xLilly White
Summary: Aeris becomes a courtesan of the Honeybee Inn for lack of money. It's the slums after all. But all too soon she gets sucked into a dangerous world of envy and lust, where it's impossible to remember who's using who. Genesis/Aeris/Sephiroth triangle.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's notes: Welcome to Border of Taboo! Settle down and make yourself comfortable. I'd like to warn you that it's M for a reason, and that yes, the triangle will work, only it'll take time to set up properly. I was tempted to use the plot for gratuitous sex scenes just to spare everyone the frustration (me included), but that just wouldn't be civil.  
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_Also, like any starving writer of fanfiction (or even fiction in general) I thrive on reviews, so do be so kind as to throw a bone to this poor soul if you like the writing. Ta. :)  
_

_Warning: The narrative modes change around a bit. At first it was just a stylistic exercise but I'll be using it to add flavour to certain scenes, if I can pull it off. _

* * *

_**Border of Taboo**_

• • •

"Going to see the boyfriend again?" Elmyra smiled as I snuggled into an old black trench coat. Her smile turned into a bit of an anxious grimace when she saw what I was wearing underneath the black; usually I put on casual clothes to get to work, so that no one can guess what I might be up to. The orphans and lonely wretches that I help during the day can't know that their smiling mascot vehemently rips away the buttoned pink to replace it by grid patterns of vulgarity and deep, blood red. It just… wouldn't be fair. Not to mention, I do have a certain sense of self-preservation seeing how dangerous it can get out there.

This time though, I was late, and Elmyra could see the long slit climbing up my dress and revealing a bit too much leg, as well as the lacey heights of a pair of borrowed stockings.

"Aeris Gainsborough," she said as I decidedly _failed_ to look innocent. "Don't you think you're overdoing it a little bit? I thought women used this kind of armament to cover up the fact that they possess _no_ natural charm. And I'm sure you don't need all that to please a man."

_To please a man_. If only she knew what she'd implied! Cheeks reddening, I corrected my posture in order to hide my legs from her, unable to repress an embarrassed grin. If this is how she reacted to the slightest hint of sensuous clothing, then I didn't even want to venture a thought towards the day she'd discover what my nights were like.

"I just …wanted to try something different. Does it look that horrid?" I asked her, and she laughed at me, hiding her smile behind her hands.

"_Horrid_'s not really the right word, sweetie. No woman looks horrid in such a dress. I'm just saying… be careful on your way there. Zack won't appreciate the thought of wrinkly old men checking out his woman, I don't think."

_His woman_. The sound of that almost took me off-guard; it sounded so… nice. Decent. It brought to mind the stable kind of relationship that a slumgirl can't possible afford, be it for lack of time, or money, or just plain good attitude. Bitter attachment to one's own survival can get in the way of a great many things, after all.

• • •

"What?! You still live with your mother?!" Zack leaned his elbows on the table, giving the new girl an incredulous look. He'd known her for a while now, having grown up in the same sector as her, and yet now that she was approaching her twenties he couldn't believe she hadn't moved on to something by now. Glass beads studded her ears, light spirals of chestnut hair tickled her collarbones; her chin was lowered, casting a shadow over her décolleté. He had to remind himself that it was bad for business to feast his eyes on a colleague; and that it was equally bad for old friendships, if not worse.

Aeris smiled a little shyly. "Well, you know, I don't really have any reasons to change that. Anyway it's not a crime, is it? I don't remember it being any worse for a soldier to hide his nightly business from his boss than a daughter from her mother."

"The General doesn't give a damn what I do with my nights. Hell, he'd probably come on over here and get himself a room if he knew how much he'd be earning, and with what kind of company he'd be doing business."

He kept his eyes fixed on her face, trying hard to keep his gaze from wavering. She must've noticed, because she lifted a curious eyebrow at him.

"I'll admit the girls I've seen so far…" she said, and didn't have to finish for him to get her gist. They were in the client's waiting room, doing what several other fidgety men were doing; waiting for the boss to call them into his office, except they wouldn't be going in there to see the 'menu' of men and women.

"Don't go lusting after any of them," Zack said with a sly smile, "It's useless. The money either of you would spend on the other would just go to the same purse."

Aeris scoffed, trying to keep a semblance of elegance as she giggled behind a hand.

"It really has been a while since we've actually sat down to talk, Zack," she said, glancing up at him playfully, "I haven't had the occasion to tell you that I haven't quite broken up with my _male_ preferences just yet."

"Well, it's quite good for business, you know, to be versatile," Zack said with a would-be innocent look, which made his expression so contradictory to what he was implying that she couldn't help laughing again.

"Anyway, let's get back to the point, since I don't actually want to change you in any way," Zack said with a grin, "We have to find you a good cover-up, seeing as you're still an obstinate goodie-goodie in daylight. I still can't believe that you, Aeris, the damn flowergirl, has joined me here."

"Somewhere along the road you eventually have to realize where you really are and grow up a bit," Aeris countered, trying not to let his banter weaken her determination. "Compassion buys smiles, not bread. And I doubt it buys Upper world flats, either."

Zack gave her a big, wide smile. "Ah, so you'll follow me down the steps to damnation just to satisfy purely material needs," he said in a mock-grave tone, his gaze accidentally slipping down from her eyes- he managed to catch himself, falling no lower than her lips. She opened her mouth to retaliate- he watched her lips unstick, her pearl white teeth hiding behind the pulpous red. As she brought her forearms together on the table, fingers folding over white skin, a cursed chestnut strand came to stick itself to her mouth as she spoke – she lifted a hand to whisk it away, and his gaze escaped to her wrist, tumbling down her forearm, sliding to her throat, trickling slowly down the line of her cleavage…

Almost out of panic he lifted a finger and dragged his eyes back up to hers with much effort.

"I have an idea!" he proclaimed a little louder than necessary, interrupting her without having paid attention to anything she'd said. She pursed her lips, refraining from slapping him so as to not disturb the already tense atmosphere of the waiting room.

"I'm listening."

"Well… you and me…" Zack began, a sudden nervousness creeping over him and forcing him to scratch the back of his head. It was strange; he'd dropped his professional glamour in order to give his old friend a warm welcome, and now he found that without the sly eyes and witty tongue he was defenceless before a woman, and especially this one who knew him so well.

Aeris' eyebrow hadn't stopped escalating since he'd vaguely trailed off. "Oh dear. Why do I get the impression I'm not going to like this?" she said half-jokingly, trying to catch his eyes. Zack let himself be caught, knowing it wasn't a big deal at all, that she'd just surprised him with her unfamiliar attitude and self-confidence. Or maybe this was just a facet that he'd never noticed before; or that she'd purposefully been hiding.

That thought made his smile widen. He hoped the suave façade wouldn't fail him as he said, "We'd make a damn good couple, wouldn't we?"

Aeris wasn't exactly taken aback. Rather, she seemed exasperated – and then she actually _laughed_ right in his face. If his feelings were hurt every time a woman made fun of his attempts at seduction, he'd surely have gone to bang his head against the wall out of denial by now.

"You know, that is possibly the most unromantic thing I've ever heard, and that's saying a lot since it comes from you," was her justification of her rude behaviour.

"Oh come on, Aeris. Don't you think that romance would piss me off, after all these nights? Women are boringly repetitive in their little fantasies. You'll see, you'll be lucky to have male customers; most of them don't really want much else than, well, basic satisfaction. It doesn't stretch your brain out of proportion."

"Poor thing," Aeris said with a compassionate smile and tilt of the head, "Maybe I'll think about that thing you said about versatility. That way we could swap clients; since women never really have to go out of their way to behave like lovesick idiots, maybe it would be less of a hardship for me to pair up with your…" She lifted her gaze to follow the woman who'd just walked in, chin up, gold adorning her pristine throat. "… little gem-studded clients."

Zack was smiling, and Aeris noticed the subtle change in his expression as he noticed the woman coming in and sitting down on the couch that took up the whole opposite wall. She couldn't quite tell if he was smiling at her or the woman; or perhaps both, since he gave her a significant look before glancing over her shoulder surreptitiously and lifting his head, giving him a deliciously arrogant air.

"On the other hand you seem quite fond of them," Aeris grinned, winning Zack's attention.

"Ah, just take it as a game, 'Ris," he said absently, the change in his expression not quite going away. "Anyway, I offered myself as a cover-up for your long, inexplicable nights. Do you accept?" Now he sounded as solemn as if he was asking her to marry him. Aeris stared at him, not quite understanding his offer.

"What?"

"Tell your mother and whoever's annoying enough to ask that you've finally found yourself a proper man – what?" She was laughing behind her hands again. Wisely, he chose to ignore her; he had a very good idea of what she thought of him, and quite frankly, she could think what she wanted. "So you've found a man, and seeing as he's a SOLDIER, he's very busy during the day so you have to give him your nights to be able to see him. You alright with that?"

"I guess…" She took a minute to think about how her entourage would take this. And then, how she'd take it. And then she looked down at her hands and nodded. "This is going to be real tiring."

Zack barked a laugh. "You're right about that."

"How do you deal with soldiering AND night shifts?"

He grinned at how she defined his jobs, but before he could say anything the office door swung open. Both of them look up at the boss, Aeris in apprehension, Zack in regret; the man nodded his head meaningfully at Zack, telling him wordlessly to get about his business. Squeezing his old friend's hand, Zack got up and proceeded to escorting his client to his appointed room. The men in the waiting room watched with lusting eyes as both beautiful creatures strode up the stairs that lead to the rooms: the green silk dress clinging to the woman's sleek body, and the lucky man's hand sliding from her shoulder to her nape, making her turn her head to the side, lashes flickering up as she gave him a smouldering glance.

Aeris turned her attention back to the boss. He seemed to be made of pink granite, tall and square in his black suit. The black shirt collar that he wore seemed to dig into his slight second chin; a lapis-blue tie gave a finishing touch to his half-pimp, half-banker outfit. His well-groomed moustache sat on his upper lip, and his stern black eyes glittered as he looked down at his new possession.

In conclusion, Aeris was surrendering the control of her night life to the scariest-looking man she'd even seen down here in the slums, and she was trying desperately to repress that little nagging thought that wanted to drag her out of this sordid place and back home to the safety of her mother. Back to her mummy! Hah. What an inappropriate desire it was to have in such a place, she thought, kicking herself; staring up at her new boss, she smiled hesitantly, and stood as he held out his hand to invite her into his office.

He closed the door behind her, stepping around the desk with his polished shoes creaking in the silence; sitting down with a groan of comfort and an even louder creak of leather, he set his plate-sized hands out flat on the desk.

Seconds went by. Aeris fidgeted madly, trying to repress the urge to leap around laughing maniacally.

The 'Big Boss' stared at her from under his bushy eyebrows for what seemed like an eternity. She'd never before felt such invasive scrutiny, and the fabric of her dress suddenly seemed to make her itch absolutely everywhere – her tights constricted her waist till she was sure she couldn't breathe – she felt filthy, she felt queer and absolutely stupid for even thinking of enrolling in this. He was probably going to kick her out anyway, telling her they didn't accept teenage girls with delusions of beauty. Arrogant, he'd call her – he'd say did she really think that with those unimpressive knockers she'd get any success?

Well, she'd tell him that she didn't have any other bodies to sell in order to stay alive in these godforsaken slums, and just because he was damn rich thanks to the girls whom he wrung dry to run his business, that didn't mean he had the right to tell her she had absolutely no chance.

And then he'd slam those huge fists on the desk and make the wood shatter and explode, making her cower and hide her face while he yelled that she should go back home to mummy just like she wanted, and to never show her immature face here again.

And then she'd yell right back at him…

Her eyes must've been darkening and her expression getting glummer and glummer as she imagined what their interaction could turn out to be, because he suddenly gave a loud laugh and held up his mason's hands towards her, shattering the oppressive silence.

She snapped out of it instantly, staring at him, jolted back to reality. They hadn't spoken; she didn't have a reason to hate his guts just yet. (… except maybe that godamn tie.)

"Now, now, my dear, don't be nervous! Just by looking at you I can tell that we'll be doing great business together," he told her, his rumbling voice clothed in a velvet sheath of persuasion. "Zack told me you were looking for… involvement at the HoneyBee because you were short on money. You see, I like you, and Zack is one of my best workers, so if you work well, I'll be extra generous to you."

Aeris swallowed, not knowing if she was interpreting that right.

"About the money…" she permitted herself to ask, and he laughed kindly.

"Of course. You probably don't know much about how this kind of job works. The money you earn goes to my purse, and I give you a certain percentage of it according to your quality as a worker. If you're a slacker I'll be less generous. Of course, even the worst slacker still gets a fair share. I never go under 50 percent, just so you know."

Aeris didn't know if she had the courage to dare the question… Lacing her fingers together, she tried the best she could to sound confident.

"And, uh, if I may… what's the average price for one night?"

The boss stared at her for a little minute before laughing again, shaking his head.

"You girls always amuse me with your questions. Do you really think a simple man like me, rich or no, could calculate how much each woman is worth? No, I have special system here. It ensnares clients, ensuring your success and mine. You see, all the girls start with a basic price- "

"How much?" Aeris blurted before she could stop herself; she had to know if this was going to be worth it or not. Not that she was a money-addict… far from it. But she'd given much thought to the idea of selling one's own attributes, and it wasn't to flatter herself that she wanted a decent price; it was to ensure her dignity as a woman, not to mention the actual point of her enrolling into the business. Even though the notion of dignity might sound ridiculous in a place like this.

The boss seemed to understand; he didn't laugh this time.

"1000 Gil."

Aeris' mouth dropped open. She couldn't help it. 1000?! Crisis, she'd been thinking maybe 30-ish! And how on the Planet did this man manage his business in a place like this, with such high sums? It could only mean that the clients were all plate-dwelling noblemen… her heart was racing. What if she didn't meet the standards? What if she was too simple, too -

The pimp suddenly laughed.

"Just kidding. 40 Gil is the starting price."

Aeris stared, her heart plummeting. She stared in desperation, disappointment gnawing away at the lovely soaring feeling she'd just experienced.

Alright, now she had a reason to hate him.

"Hey, honey, this isn't the place if you want to win easy money. I was just messing with you. Anyhow, let me explain," he said, not even showing an ounce of discomfort while under the assault of Aeris' deathly glare. "None of that! Have a little humour."

"Only men with plenty of money in their pockets joke around like that," Aeris managed to say without seething, "I'm sorry. 1000 Gil is probably more than any slum-dweller ever wishes to make in his whole life."

"I know that, my dear," the boss told her in a kind voice. "But what I'm trying to say is, the kind of glory that is attained without any build-up is a fool's glory. And I've seen a lot of my girls, and one or two of my men, too, go past the 5000 gil boundary. Let me tell you how this works."

Hearing this, Aeris gazed at him suspiciously, waiting for him to continue.

"You know just like I do that pretty much all rather well-off slum dwellers lead miserable lives. They earn their bread, they have families, but slum life is all you could ever want to escape from. I've seen a lot of slum dwellers working all day just to win enough money to forget their depression at my place. 40 Gil is a good price for them, neither cheap nor expensive… at least for most of my slum customers. Now, you never really do good business with these folk, because if they want to become your regular, they'll never be able to keep on paying higher and higher for your time. See, that's how it works for the slum-dwellers. If you want to just earn your bread, you'll satisfy yourself with these clients.

"Now, if you want to win the attention of the plate-dwellers, you have to put your back into it. Seeing as I used to live up there before opening this business, I have plenty of contacts who organize parties and who always need a fresh little well-groomed woman (or man) from my lot. They never admit it, but they love the raw quality of my women. I never doubted how successful I'd be if I worked with your slum girls; you have qualities that the women leading easy lives will never have. Which, mind you, is pretty understandable. Now, plate-dwellers very often become regulars, seeing as the starting price is so low; they'll be very generous, and most actually pay more than the starting price if they like you. Then, finally, when the prices get real high, it generally means that the client really has something going with my worker, and in that case, I let him have her if that's what they both want. Getting him to buy her wouldn't be right; like I said, I can't just fix prices on my women's heads. Some want to show their women how much they adore them and insist on buying them for extravagant prices- well, what can I say, it's like being impressed by expensive wine, isn't it? I can't really refuse in those cases."

Aeris couldn't take her eyes off him as he spoke. He looked like such a frightful character, and yet… what he was doing was of an unexpected, unimaginable kindness. This realization wiped clean the deception of the prices.

"It's a flux, really. Women manage to get out of the slums, at the same time freeing a place here for any woman who wants to try her luck."

"You used to live up on the plate," Aeris echoed him feebly.

"Yes," he said, nodding solemnly, "and anyone who lives up there is a damn bastard if he never thinks at least once of those who live under him, in complete darkness and misery. You know, a lot of people disagree with what I'm doing. Others think like I do about the injustice of Midgar, but don't really know how to act. There are a lot who want to help, and so I've already got a good number of clients up there who spread the word. It's a good business you know. But every once in a while one of my girls manages to spin the less sensitive around, and that's always good- most of those kind of men are the richest little Shinra dogs who earn a bloody sin of money every month. Not only is it good for business, but it's good for the morals of those rich asses."

He looked at Aeris, stopping his chatter, and reached over, his black eyes warmer than she would've thought possible. She slipped her hand into his outstretched one, and he stood and came around the desk to face her. He could see she was shaken; most of the girls were when he explained his business to them, but this one here had a different expression in her eyes. It was almost like she was relieved not only for herself but for all the women and men that he opened his doors to.

She wanted to express this expansive feeling that was taking up her entire chest; maybe she could say something real sappy, like 'This business you're running is absolutely beautiful', or 'You're a godsend', or something of like that… but then he'd taken her by the shoulders and was looking at her quite seriously.

"The goal of my business might be a respectable one, but that doesn't make the work any easier," he said in the gravest of tones. Aeris nodded. She thought she knew what she was getting herself involved with… and she thought it couldn't really be that hard, as long as you get to live decently enough during the day. Right?

"I have to tell you that I lost quite a few of my girls to some shady characters who took advantage of my system; but unless the Midgarian law does anything about it, I can't afford to track them and help them out. You've got to understand that the hearts of men are more often corrupted than not. Yes?"

"Yes," she said firmly.

"That's my girl," the boss said. "Aeris, is that it? We can get you a pseudonym if you like."

"Uh…" She hadn't thought of that. Maybe it would be safer.

"Maybe something to do with your affinities? What you love?"

The earth. The sweet smell of loamy soil, of her garden in the slum church… But calling herself Gaia would be much too cheesy.

On the other hand, her garden wasn't exactly what one would expect of a flowergirl such as herself. She cultivated weeds in her garden, and they gave the most magnificent flowers- well, actually, it wasn't really a matter of cultivating the weeds, it was more like arbitrating a war between two species who each wanted to entangle and snuff out the other. Encroached in its soil, the weed would never give up its conquest, impossible to get rid of even if she ripped all of it out… in a way, she'd be playing the same game with these men she'd meet, wouldn't she? She'd tangle them in her vines, a weed among defenseless but beautiful flowers of the Better Kind…

The comparison made her laugh; it was kind of ridiculous. None of the weeds' names sounded quite feminine enough, however.

"What kinds of names do the other girls choose?"

The boss looked at her with one of those bushy eyebrows raised.

"The basic kind of names that women who want to hide their identity behind a glamorous façades use," he said, as if all this bored him. "Assassins and prostitutes name their own reputation rather than themselves. To deal out pleasure, or to deal out death… whichever it is, you're going to have men wanting you, so you better have a professional-sounding name."

Aeris would've smiled if he hadn't used that vulgar term to define what she was about to be. Breathing in deeply, she tried to fill herself with the old determination that kept wavering from side to side, trying to keep it from falling flat.

"Why don't you name me? I can't think of anything."

As soon as she'd asked the favour, she wished she could take it back- the boss was smiling as though she'd just offered him much more than a chance to name her, and he proceeded to walk around her, two fingers on his lips as he examined her and tried to find something. Finally, just as she was about to tell him to forget it, he stopped in front of her and seemed to find some grain in the depths of her eye that he could not rip his gaze from.

"Those eyes… are most unusual. Much too green. They almost look like SOLDIER eyes, and yet…they don't exactly glow like the Mako eyes we're used to see, they…somehow, they seem to… pulsate. Yes. Most unusual…

He still wouldn't look away. "Pearls of Lifestream they are, no doubt. You're a strange creature, Aeris. A chimera blending among beautiful women."

Her heart was beginning to race; she wasn't sure she liked where he was going with his inspection..

"You know, apart from those in my sector, no one really knows me by my name…" She was about to say, 'only by my face and code number', but her boss didn't need to know that she was one of Shinra's most wanted targets. Though they hadn't threatened to kidnap her anytime soon, they'd set a dark-haired man to watch her, and if they thought they could get away with that without her noticing then they must've really known nothing about her other than her origins and specimen number.

Maybe she could do something with that number, actually…to laugh at them from the murky depths just under their feet. CS03AG was what they'd tattooed vertically behind her left ear, with a little encircled JP just under that, just behind her earlobe. She remembered; she'd been young when they'd taken her into their 'care'… she saw those letters everywhere. JP. JP. It never stopped. There weren't many others who had the encircled tattoo, except the man in the white blouse who called himself Hojo; maybe others who were as dedicated as him had tattooed themselves as a reminder, or for good luck, or Planet knows what.

"You are part of a great project," she remembered Hojo telling her once, threading wires into her skin and rubbing her needle-wounds with some kind of appeasing orange-ish goo. His eyes were far too lifeless, his forehead far too wide, his smile far too crooked for her to trust him; she remembered how she terrorized she was, wriggling as he held out her arm in an iron grip in order to go about his strange business. She'd flinch as he pricked her, she'd cry out and wail in fear as he took from her blood and skin samples, when he'd inject countless multicoloured 'tests' into her… but he'd still blabber to her about his precious plans, never getting tired of imagining his future grandeur. "When you'll be older, when you'll understand what an honour it is to be a part of this great thing, you'll be able to tell your loved ones, 'I helped the Jenova Project become a reality, I helped you all to plunge deep into your minds and find the ancient roots you forsook so long ago. I helped recreate the perfect Beings…'"

"So what will it be?"

Shaken back to reality, Aeris almost said 'Jenova Project' aloud: she managed to look at the man who'd sat back down at his desk, allowing her the time to think.

"I don't want some silly composed name or anything self-glorifying," she said, more boldly than she'd expected; "I think I'll take something simple and meaningless. If I change names it'll just be for the rumours, so that no one goes around saying that Aeris is a great one, or that Aeris is terrible at it, and all; let's just say that certain reactions could be… dangerous?" She thought of her adoptive mother, feeling bitter for having to lie to her. She was doing this for both of their good, anyway… in these times they weren't as well off as Elmyra liked to have her think.

The boss gave a loud 'Hah!' before looking up to her.

"What then?" He was getting impatient.

"It'll be Nova."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

He whistled, checking her out again and give her an teasingly anxious look, as if he wasn't impressed by what he was seeing. "So much for self-glorifying! Better live up to it or your success will blow itself out like a balloon."

"Will you accept it?" Now she just felt stupid. This whole naming business was ridiculous.

"Sure, I accept it. In fact, I'm going to put you in my Menu just about now, little Nova. Pose, darling, I need a nice portrait to go with your nice, plain, uninteresting name." He was teasing her; there was a hint of a smile under his moustache, though she knew that he probably really did fear for her success, next to the girls whose attitudes actually fit quite well with the animal or cataclysm or assassin names. She was worlds away from her own cataclysm. Actually he'd always wondered what that queer feeling was that she had whenever someone mentioned the Jenova phenomenon. She'd never gotten around to finding out what exactly Jenova could be defined as; and yet to her it couldn't be something good, if the simple evocation made her feel queasy.

Flash. A Polaroid picture came sliding from the camera, and she looked up at the boss, startled.

"What? Wh- I didn't even pose!"

"Ah, but you looked lovely in your musing, my honey," the boss smiled at her, before waving a paw at her. "Well, I'm giving you the ninth room to your right when you get upstairs. You better get going, I'll organize all this." He sighed. "Looks like it's going to be a long night."

• • •


	2. Chapter 2

_Whoo! It's been 3 years! Oh my God. xD Anyway, I'm finally updating, and since I'm very much reinspired to write this I'll probably be finishing it _before_ the end of the year this time.  
__Thanks to anyone who reads, and please review! I'm always curious to know what you think, whether you enjoyed it or not. ;) _

_ **Border of Taboo**_

**2**

_**• • •**_

Toes lined up on the edge of the bed, neat red circles forming a bumpy line as the painted nails glinted in the lamplight. She was shrugging on a milky piece of fabric that drifted around her arms like a fog, and when she shook out her mane of hair the strands got lost in the vagueness that seemed to surround her, hide her from unwelcome onlookers.

His fingers wandered across the endless miles of tattered covers that separated their bodies – him, practically falling off the edge of the bed, and her, sitting against the red-painted wall with her long legs splayed out, knees like white bumps sticking out of the crumpled mess of clothes and covers.

"How old are you, love?"

She was examining the tendons that rose against the skin of her petite hands, straining beautifully like the buried strings of an instrument as she made her fingers dance.

"The younger we are, the better you find us," she told him, "I could lie to keep you under the illusion that you're perverting an innocent little thing – because there's no fun in courting mature women."

"You're not a mature woman," the man laughed, "And you can't make me believe that that prudeness of yours is an illusion hiding some inherent decadence – sorry, _maturity_."

"So that's how you see mature women?"

"That's how you implied it," he smiled, and she looked over at him - eyelids like rosy petals delicately framing the glittering green that peered out.

"But I don't wish to be decadent."

"Then don't ever grow up, my dear."

•

The Boss looked up from his paperwork.

"Ah! Come in, my dear, come in."

She was wearing a blue cardigan over a summer dress, looking ridiculously innocent as always though her face betrayed the blossoming femininity that was steadily growing its thorns. Standing by the door, she glowered down at him rather regally. Then the door snapped shut as she came forward.

"How _are_ you?" He'd looked up from his papers, fingers knotted together and wriggling in anticipation. Apparently it was a bit of an honour to get the Boss to lift his head to acknowledge you when you were one of his relatively average workers – but Aeris didn't care about whether or not he had tender feelings for her or whatnot.

"Why did you change my name?"

His expression froze for a second around his moustache, and she could almost hear each coarse hair bristling up against its neighbour, sole island of life on a greasy plain of skin that lay crumpled and barely covering the constantly scheming mind beneath. He had very probably been expecting that, and now he was opening the appropriate mental files where premeditated answers had been stowed away.

"Well, it's just a question of preferences, really, my dear," he began, eyes quirking under their frayed hood of criss-crossing lashes as she noisily dragged a chair across the floor towards herself with a dainty, red-tipped foot. "Nothing personal. I don't doubt your capacities at all if that's what you thought the gesture implied."

"I don't really care either way," Aeris huffed, languidly indifferent as she slid down onto the chair. Legs stretched at their full length under the desk – if she stretched her toes she could knock her bare feet against his polished black shoes. "It just sort of gave me a … little shock. Kind of. Like realizing that you don't necessarily tell your girls – employees – of business that involves them."

He smiled at her condescendingly. "There's been several girls like you who took me for somewhat of a paternal figure. That's probably because my profile doesn't really fill the archetype of the 'pimp', but still, that's what I essentially _am_, darling – your pimp."

She looked at him from under her lashes.

"My pimp."

"Yes."

"… my pimp." Then she laughed. "I'm sorry, that's just – wow. My pimp."

A frown came to mar his otherwise condescending expression. He observed her as her gaze drifted into the distance for a second, lips parted in a mysterious little smile that held no mirth – more like, the absolute detachment of wonder, of numb realization.

"You still have a lot to get used to, darling," he crooned, the caring quality of his tone barely covering the fact that he wanted to be left to his accounts. "All you need to know right now is that I have all your files, and that I decide the events, the replacements, essentially all the business that you're involved in. You're free to come and ask me anything you like, but I'm not in the habit of relinquishing the utter control I have on your professional lives."

"But you're in the habit of forgetting to tell us when you change something?" She wouldn't lower those insolent green eyes of hers, try as he might to puff out his chest under the regal pink shirt that stretched over it.

He sighed, elbows leaving the table as he straightened; the leather creaking around his back as it swallowed him spoke even louder of his impatience than the look he was giving her. "Look, we are all professionals here. If you don't like your new name, think of something better and come find me. But for now I've got work to do."

Aeris looked at him; there was something about this place that made her insolent, something about him that made her want to revert to the same base individualism that the so-called 'professionals' all enjoyed here. But crushed as she was under that beetle-black gaze, she almost felt her spine curling in resignation; she lowered her eyes, nodding.

"And in the future," he continued gravely, "please consider that I've got a full house _and_ Upworld contracts to take care of, so unless it's a matter of utter importance I prefer not to be disturbed." Her eyes caught the reflections of his many rings, and she followed his hands as they absently stroked that ridiculous tie of his. "The only times that I'll summon you will be when I have a big contract for you, or when I'm organizing an event that includes quite a few of you. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir." She was trying to recover her dignity a little. It wouldn't do to constantly act the child when this had been her choice.

"Good."

_•  
_

_I'm not going to say that slipping over the edge has never tempted me. Wait, not 'tempted' – rather, intrigued me. I've never really looked at another girl and thought about how she'd look, looming over me with a face full of desire and hands full of caring, caressing intentions. _

_Zack had warned me not to play around with my colleagues but this doesn't seem to be about money.  
She wants me to teach her. _

_She came in just a few minutes ago, while I was undoing my messy braid in order to do it up again properly; she calls herself Promise. I'm still looking her up and down, not quite believing that a woman of her physical calibre could possibly want any kind of advice from me.  
"Why?" I ask her in response to the question that I can still hear, bouncing in the air, kept afloat by my incredulity. I can't help giving a shy smile; it seems that women still manage to bring out a certain sensitive side of me that gets repressed by sheer survival instinct as soon as I step into this place._

"_You're already getting Upperworld customers and you've hardly been here a month," she says to me, shapely lips quivering as delicately as a bowstring. The visual perfection of her physique slips away as surprise kicks me in the stomach. _

"_Really?" It's almost embarrassing to be so ignorant about what's supposed to be sustaining my life down here, but the Boss never really gives us a heads-up about who it is we're meeting, unless there are vital things to be avoided if we want to keep our heads.  
_

_"Of course, Chimera." She calls me by my new, yucky name. "I would like you to show me what's earning you such a fast-spreading reputation." _

"_What - " I'm a little breathless; can't seem to decide what I want as I stare at her. "What do you mean?"  
_

_I bet Zack's looking through the keyhole. There's no other explanation; he set me up. I'm not receiving Upworlders. I can't be. My pay check has hardly budged; 20 Gil for new clients, occasionally rising to 30 or 40 when similar faces drop by. So unless I've been getting particularly despicable rich men who won't spare a single coin over the starting price, I don't see how she can think my 'talents' – oh, _Planet_ – have earned me any particular monetary privileges._

_Also;  
_

_"Reputation?" _

"_As the girl Chimera, not as your real self," she assures me, as if I need reminding- it's not like Chimera and I have different faces. This thought has plagued me night after night lately; surely the clients don't divulge anything other than what they did, and the relevant body parts involved - but what if someone starts speaking about my face? What if my concealer leaks with all the sweat – what if someone saw my tattoo?_

"_Show me," Promise whispers, clearly trying to jar me out of my thoughts; she starts walking towards me, pert little feet peeking out from beneath the flowing translucent pink of her dress. Instinctively I start backwards; she smiles a warm, reassuring smile as she sees this. "You don't have to be afraid. You can even say no if you don't want to. Just decide."  
_

_I let her thread her way through the clutter of sheets and various drapes hanging from the ceiling; her hips sweep against the vague lines of her dress, giving her concealed figure a vanishing erotic substance with each step. She's looking at me with a quiet but insolent insistence. I can't help… being affected. But it's not my fault. Anybody with a functioning hormonal system would be affected. The way her dark curls bump against the softness of her upper arms, skimming past her round shoulders and tickling her cheekbones … she's still smiling. _

"_What if I say no?" My heart is pounding like never before. Well. Like when my first customer came in, rather._

_She stops immediately, smile dropping out of existence, and I find myself throbbing with a selfish desire to see her throwing herself at me again. However daintily she did it- the intention remained the same.  
_

_When had I become so egotistical?  
_

_I should say no. This is pointless. This won't get me anywhere. It might get _her_ somewhere, but still; compassion serves no one in a place like this. Does it? I mean, she might be plotting something, she's probably lying – they're all liars, even I'm starting to get the drift of how to protect my interests, and … _

_Ah, sod it. _

_I stretch a hand out to her, feeling positively giddy with self-defiance. Her savage grin reappears, and she glides towards me like a dream. I've never met a man who has as much elegance as that, but then again they're men, aren't they? And she's supposed to be seductive, she's supposed to be beautiful, and elegant, and … her hand takes mine, electrifying me. Her skin is so soft- it's a _girl_, Aeris! You don't _do_ girls! Aeris! What are you doing? What are you doing?_

_I'm kissing her. Oh, Crisis, I'm kissing her. I can feel her smiling, and then those soft palms are on my wrists and she's guiding my hands towards her waist._

"_You know, it should be you guiding me," she says against my mouth, and I can't believe how wantonly my groan sounds when she breaks the kiss to say that. _

"_I told you," I say, looking away from her marvellously glowing face, feeling my cheeks growing hot. I feel like my insides have become cottony clouds, drifting up and down. "I don't have anything to teach you," I murmur, "You're clearly mesmerizing enough to turn even a straight girl's head, so…"_

_She laughs a tinkering laugh. "That's precisely what you have to teach me," she says. "Shyness. Modesty."  
_

_I'm already aching to touch more of her. I've never had this with my customers – when they take their clothes off most of the time I'm trying not to look elsewhere than their faces, since most of them have clear proof of their poor living standards marking their bodies. I always feel like I'm offending them by looking too closely at their dry muscles, the craggy profusion of veins, the sunken temples and hollows around the hips, the knees like crumbling rocks. I try to keep as much cloth as I can to lessen the contact between my skin and theirs. But, now… I feel like if she doesn't spread the softness of her hands over the rest of my body, I'll curl up at her feet and beg her for it. _

_Which I will never, ever do. Obviously. _

"_First of all," I say, trying not to stammer, "You mustn't look like you want anything. You mustn't look like you want them." It's like giving myself advice. Oh, Planet, Planet!_

_She glances down. "Like this?" Her fingers become lighter on my forearms, the tingling contact making me yearn for her to mash her palms against my skin as hard as she physically can. I repress a shiver. _

"_That's it. Keep your eyes down."_

"_And what if they force me to look at them?" she suggests. I can't seem to help myself – I grab her chin, completely unlike myself, acting out her hypothetical partner. I'm smiling – this is so unlike what I'm usually like, what I usually do. What I usually want.  
_

_"Fight them off," I tell her.  
_

_She constructs a frown in the midst of her flawless white brow, looking as though I'm hurting her._

"_Plead," I whisper, heart racing as I dare to say things I never would in normal circumstances. Somehow… no, I'm not enjoying this. It's just a lesson._

"_Sir, please," she murmurs throatily, "Your hands are rough." _

"_So are my manners," I say in a silly deep voice. _

"_I can see that," she replies, glancing at me sideways with her long lashes delectably overshadowing her eyes. _

"_And what are you going to do about it?" I growl, unable to stop smiling at how silly I sound. I'm not hiding my arousal under a smile – I'm not. It's just nerves._

_She turns so that she can look at me face-on. She doesn't say anything. She seems to be… leaning in? _

"_I told you not to appear to want anything," I admonish her, but she just keeps going._

"_I don't want anything."_

"_That's not what it looks like," I gasp as her lips brush mine, thin and hard and tantalizing. _

"_Then how do you do it?" she whispers. _

_I'm still holding her chin – loosening my grip, I let my hand trail negligently down her throat, down between her breasts, catching on the fabric of her dress. She sighs against my mouth, and though it feels like I'm pushing away the only thing I've ever wanted in my entire life, I push her away.  
_

_"Chin down," I order her. She does as I say, subdued expression carefully set in place. "Eyes averted. You only look at their face, nothing else."_

_I close the distance between her and give her shoulder a rough push – with a cry of surprise she falls back onto the bed.  
_

_"Never go towards them," I say, looming over her, "Neither to kiss them, nor to touch them, never. Wait for them to do it to you."_

_I fall to my knees, one between her thighs and the other by her right leg. She's obediently not looking at me, stealing glances at my face from time to time.  
_

_"Look afraid," I murmur, and she changes her expression perfectly. I can't believe how easily I'm describing my attitude during encounters with clients, but well, she asked how I did it. _

_It's surprising how easy it is to be the dominant one, to command the other, to take from her what I want; for the first time, I understand perfectly why men take what they want straight away without requiring the frivolities of love, or pretence of love, or other such games we practice here. I slide my hands between her writhing thighs and pull them apart, stealing a discreet moan of desire from her. _

"_Don't make a sound," I say, and she nods, eyes closed. Still as the hypothetical male partner, I let her go in order to take her thighs in a firmer grip, and thrust my hips between her legs. "He's ravaging you," I say as her body undulates with each imaginary thrust, "Take it for now. Just take it as if you're enduring it." _

"_Is it all an act, or do I have to be sincere in my absence of desire?" she asks me, and I stop to consider her question. Do I sincerely lack desire, every time I'm with a man? Do I force the act, or is it really how I am? _

"… _it depends on the man. Either you don't want him, or you hide it. But either way you appear not to want him." _

"_But won't that offend him?"_

_"He'll make more of an effort to get you to want him," I say, "… normally."_

"_So I can't ask him to please keep going?" she whispers, looking up at me with her eyes incandescent with desire. I smile, more at how ridiculous I seem, all domineering like this, than at the double-meaning of her question._

"_Not unless he asks you to express what you want," I say, "Which they never do."_

"_That's true," she sighs, arms up framing her head quite artfully in the tumult of sheets. She looks up at me again, grinning slyly. "You like acting the man, don't you?" _

"_No way, not at all," I protest, "It's just necessary for the lesson."_

"_You'd rather be frail and at the other person's mercy, as you're teaching me to be?" She's coiling her legs around my hips as she says this, and I… oh, Crisis. It's like whenever she touches me my very willpower wavers inside me, as though I could get loose of my body any given moment. I let her pull me down, very much aware that I'll probably feel dirty when this is over. But… it just feels so good, for once. It feels like something I want, for once.  
She kisses me, and I abandon myself to her. _

"_Lesson's over?" she whispers against my mouth, and I press myself against her, frowning at my own desire, at how strongly I want to both suppress and satiate it._

"_Yes."_

_•  
_

"So I heard you give lessons?"

Aeris groaned. For the past week she'd taken to waiting outside the ShinRa building for Zack, using the train tickets he gave her to get up onto the Plate. If there was any good that had come out of her new job, it was this new opportunity to see the sky; in the beginning she'd come up far too early in order to spend hours craning her neck, looking upwards. They probably thought she was some kind of freak but, she didn't care. They couldn't possibly understand.

Zack had suggested doing this to reinforce their respective alibis – apparently he'd taken to using her as an excuse, too, so now she'd get these funny, stiff nods from his friends whenever he came out with them and broke away to meet her. Zack had explained to her, with many an auto-derisive laugh, that they probably pitied her since his affairs never lasted very long. But since they weren't _really_ together, he'd told her that she was privileged – she would be his longest relationship if there had been some truth about it. And she didn't even have to suffer the hardships of being with him in order to get to such a record.

She'd smiled at the jest- but she sure didn't feel like smiling now. Sure, he could appear all tender with her when they were out in public like this, but his manner of blurting things out that could be wholly misinterpreted was really starting to tick her off.

He threw an arm around her shoulders as he caught up with her, and she immediately wriggled out of his grip, fuming.

"Aw, don't be like that, babe," he said jokily, and it was _extremely_ hard to keep herself from hitting him right there in the shadow of the ShinRa HQ.

"First off, don't call me _babe_," she said, "And second, I don't give lessons. It was just that one time. And third- "

"There's a third? How many points are you planning to make?" Zack laughed.

"Oh, I don't know. About as many as the rich girls you're fucking," she snapped, and then immediately sobered up – the use of cuss words was extremely rare for her, and when she did use them she had a habit of shocking herself out of being angry.

"You look like you could use a drink," Zack said, squeezing her arm affectionately. "Babe."

"I told you to stop- "

"Baby baby _babe,_" he sang, leaning backwards as if he were onstage, "Oh, _baby!_"

"Zack," Aeris sighed. "Drink. Now."

"Alright babe."

•

They ended up at the Condor, famous Upperworld bar that was rumoured to be one of the many bars that the President's son owned.

"You know this is where the First Class soldiers get their breakfast?"

"I thought I'd said discreet and anonymous?" Aeris sighed again; it seemed she never spoke without sighing with him. He was simply too fun-loving to keep up with, and she didn't feel like playing around right now.

"Sure, this place is anonymous," Zack argued, "I mean, apart from Sephiroth and a few other ShinRa executives, nobody's going to pick up on anything you might say here."

"Sephiroth?" Aeris' face positively blanched; she grabbed Zack's arm, pulling him roughly towards her so that she could lower her voice. "How could you – what about me? What if he sees me with you?"

"What do you mean?" He looked genuinely confused. Aeris could've sworn that she'd never been a violent person before, but this guy… it was impossible to have a normal conversation without wanting to knock his lights out at every statement he made instead of using up energy to explain the obvious.

"_Well_," she started with a sigh, to which Zack barked a laugh.

"When are you going to stop sighing?" he said.

"When you stop asking silly questions," she snapped.

"Alright babe. I'll do my best."

"_And_," she growled, "when you stop calling me babe."

"Yes."

"_Obviously_, when Sephiroth sees me, he'll associate me with you. And if there ever comes a time where he sees me _elsewhere…_" She looked up at him and squiggled her eyebrows. He just looked blank, so she ploughed on, "Oh for Heaven's sake, Zack! What will he think when he finds out a fellow First-Class is going out with a…" She struggled not to put their nightly activities under too negative a tag. "…lady of the evening? And even worse," she glanced down again, "What if he comes knocking, and sees my picture in the catalogue?"

"Oh, you don't need to worry about that," Zack laughed, "He's not into that at all."

She scoffed at that. "Oh, because you know all about your fellows and their preferences when it comes to deviant activity?"

"'Course I do," he replied simply. She stared at him in wonder, until suddenly there was a bark –

"Eat in or takeaway?"

"Uh." Aeris was still caught up with the idea that men actually talk about this stuff with each other, so Zack flashed a knowing smile at the cashier.

"Right here please, we'll have two cappuccinos and two muffins, nut and cinnamon."

"Take a seat. Next?" the man drawled, and Zack whisked his supposed girlfriend towards a table for two without her even having time to protest.

Once they were comfortably seated with their steaming cups of frothy goodness between their hands, Aeris tried a couple of times to ask the question that would relieve her burning curiosity – but she just couldn't bring herself to be so nosy. They weren't her affairs, after all.

"I know you want to know," Zack teased her, and she glowered at him, taking a bite out of her muffin to deter him.

"Nhah dnt," she mumbled as she chewed.

"You want to know, if Sephiroth ever frequents pleasure establishments," he said far too loudly, to which she frantically tried to shush him by leaning forwards and ostensibly making a grab at something – his vocal chords, maybe, or rather his face so that she could smash it against the table.

"It's a known fact," came a low, silky voice from the table behind Aeris; she froze, both hands comically gripping her muffin as if it could serve as a weapon. "Sephiroth doesn't get pleasure out of anyone but himself."

Zack barked a laugh again, leaning back on his seat. "That's a bit harsh, Genesis."

"It's the truth," this 'Genesis' person drawled, turning in his sofa to look at them. He and Aeris shared the back of the sofa, so she slid as inconspicuously as she could to the edge of her seat, turning so that her back was against the window and both men were in her view. She practically started when she saw that the alluring redhead who had spoken had his eyes fixed on her.

"And it's such a shame," he purred, a gloved hand coming up to cup the air just under her chin. "Depriving himself of such a lovely, delicate world."

"Oi," Zack said sharply, "You touch her, and I'll drag you to the training room."

"Do you really believe that sounds threatening to me?" Genesis scoffed.

"I'll bring Angeal with me," Zack added, raising his eyebrows, to which the redhead smiled, dropping his hand.

"How dull you are," Genesis said, then he leaned in a little, gazing at Aeris from under teasing, heavy-lidded eyes. "We don't all share Sephiroth's tastes in worldly pleasures. If you're so curious about what the prestigious First Class soldiers are up to, I could very well show you, if you like."

"Man, I can't _believe _how disrespectful you are- " Zack started, getting up, but Aeris stopped him with a wave of the hand. It wouldn't do to act like she was that important to him.

"That won't be necessary," she said, giving the stranger a smile as if she found him truly endearing, "I don't know any other First Class apart from Sephiroth and Zack, so it doesn't really interest me to know of their activities."

"You don't know who I am?" Genesis practically spluttered, eyebrows shooting up indignantly.

"Sorry, no." Aeris cocked her head at him, smiling again. "If you'll excuse us?"

Genesis practically glared at them both before returning to his coffee.

"So. Lessons." Zack gave her a broad grin, to which she rolled her eyes, somehow unable to stop herself from reciprocating his grin. Apparently she'd relaxed after having successfully driven off what she saw as an obtrusive stranger; Zack found it rather funny when people brushed off the most important members of ShinRa on the basis that they didn't know who they were actually messing with.

"I told you. It was just that one time."

"Sure it was." He sipped his cappuccino, speaking up again with froth lining his upper lip. "So who was on the receiving end?"

"She calls herself Promise," Aeris said, and when she saw Zack practically spitting out his coffee she frowned. "What?" she insisted when he started laughing. "Did I do something wrong? It was a big joke, that's what you're going to tell me, right?" She'd sort of been suspecting it anyway. It didn't really matter.

"They all fall for it," he said to himself, shaking his head, "It's amazing! I don't know how she does it, how nobody's ever aware of who she really is. You'd think you girls would communicate amongst yourselves, but no."

"Zack," Aeris deadpanned, still waiting for him to include her in the conversation. "Are you going to tell me what you're on about?"

He looked at her, all grins and insolent _I-know-something-you-don't_ excitement. "Promise is an assistant procurer. She's an agent from the Upperworld network of private night clubs and entertainment. She likes to take the time to sample her workers instead of having proper job interviews, which takes longer, and is less decisive when you work in this particular branch."

Aeris' jaw dropped to clatter amongst her cutlery. So much blood had risen to her cheeks that she was sure they were going to melt off any minute now.

"_No_!"

"So now we're going to get our semestrial visit from the procurer, and he'll have complete files about every potential girl he'll be looking to sign up for occasional Upperworld jobs," Zack went on, "And apparently, that includes you."

"What are you grinning about?" Aeris' heart was thumping away, still bleeding with humiliation about how she'd acted with an actual professional. "Am I supposed to be happy about this?"

"Of course you are!" he said as if he were stating the obvious, "Pay check, Aeris! Prestige! Clean, classy customers! _Money!_" He cocked his head at her baffled expression. "Isn't that what this is all about? I mean there's no other reason you're doing this, right?"

She bit her muffin, tasting dust as it crumbled on her tongue. "Of course not."

_**• • •**_


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks a lot to Catsitta, Wen and Aerodwen for reviewing! 3  
So, I need you to tell me if I tend to drag on a bit or not - I never really know when to stop having fun with the characters, so it inevitably slows down the plot a little. But, it'll be huge, just wait and see. :D  
WARNING: SEX ! (or should that be "Good news"? It's only a little bit anyway. For now.)  
(Music while writing: Koop Island Blues, Stateless, Puscifer, Florence and the Machine. God, I'm getting obsessed with her, this has got to stop.) _

_**Border of Taboo**_

**3**

_**• • •**_

They were having a little reunion of sorts in one of the girls' rooms. Aeris hadn't really sat down to talk with many of the other girls, so one night at around 3am when the trickle of customers had slowed, she had let one of the younger ones pull her into the room, giggling as though they were part of some conspiracy or underground rebellion. The rooms being small, they were all huddled together on the floor or perched on the bed, lounging around a platter where a pot of tea sat steaming.

They smiled at her as she came in. The fairy lights that dotted the wall gave off red and green light at even intervals, so that each smooth face was lit with different gradations of colour, some lighter, some darker. Red pooled around their eyes, glinted off of the fake lashes, the sequin-dotted eyelids, the flimsy bones of their corsets, giving a raw quality to the tendons around their knees; green dripped down their chins, pooled in the hollows of their collarbones, gave an eerie taint to their ripped, fluttery garments. Aeris was under the impression that she was stepping into a carnival of sorts, where the clowns were sordid and sexualised, and where time was an antiquated notion.

"Sit down," they said, and she found a spot between two girls who immediately put their arms around her, kissing her cheeks and laughing at her embarrassment.  
Most of them were talking among themselves in twos and threes; they must have been fifteen or so in the tiny room. One girl sitting by the door gave Aeris a cup of tea, smiling at her.

"It's been a while since we did this," she said, "Boss may give us the impression that he has us under his wing, but we can only really count on each other, everybody knows that."

"Who are you?" Aeris asked her, trying to squeeze out from the two boisterous women's grips but they held on to her as if she was their mascot.

"She's the dullest one here, that's who she is," shouted the woman to Aeris' right, laughing, "Got one man up above who's been pampering her since forever, and therefore doesn't know squat about squat when it comes to difficult living."

"That is not true! I started off hard, just like everybody else," said the girl, then turned to Aeris again. "Call me Gem, everybody here does."

"Is that your professional name?" Aeris asked shyly.

"It's Hegemony in full," said the lady to her right, squeezing the poor girl against her, "Means authority, supreme leadership. Pretty clever if you ask me; little Gem wanted to appeal to the masochistic kind, so that she didn't get slapped around like the rest of us. But if you ask me she only succeeded in landing herself with a right nutter."

"_That_," Gem said with an exasperated smile at the rude woman, "is Harmony. Don't ever tell her anything about yourself."

"I'll just guess it anyway," Harmony scoffed, "Seeing as we somehow always get to know each other better than our own mothers."

The flowergirl squinted at them both, trying to make out the colour of their hair and their actual faces in the garish lights. Gem was clearly the most stunning of the two, most of her face being modified; she had shaved off her eyebrows and drawn them high and elegant, and her eyes were too clear for them to be a normal colour; her lips were delicately outlined, and she wore a heavy loop in her lower lip. She had shaved both sides of her skull, and her hair was fluffed out in a Mohawk of sorts, too messy to stick up in a clean line. Turning her head a little, Aeris rested her eyes on Harmony who was decidedly plainer; long curls of light hair swept down her generous bosom, and her face held a classic sort of beauty; round, with almond-shaped eyes and pulpous lips. They each held the kind of charisma that made Aeris feel like she was as far as she ever could be from proper womanhood.

"But those aren't your real names, of course," she ventured, and the two women laughed at her.

"Nobody knows your real name here," Gem told her, "And make sure it stays that way."

"Last time somebody insisted on telling us her real name," started the woman at Aeris' left, "a client ended up overhearing us – and when that happens your career essentially ruins your life. She was one of those poor souls who got bought and mixed up in Upperworld traffic, wasn't she?"

"Who, Dany?" Harmony inquired, leaning over so that her bosom pressed against Aeris' side.

"Yeah," the woman on her left said, "Poor girl. Charming and all, she was."

"What do you mean… traffic?" Aeris asked timidly.

"Oh, darling," the woman said with a condescending smile, "What on the Planet are you doing in here with such an innocent mind?"

"That's Vale," Gem broke in, "She was talking about the slave traffic up above. You know, Boss must be like the only pimp in this city who cares about as much about freeing his workers as he does about the money they make him. Up above, you get caught, you can't get out."

"They'll always find ways to blackmail you," Vale added. She had a soft, girlish voice; her hair seemed to be white, flowing straight down to her shoulderblades, and the lines of her face were very fine.

"They?" Aeris was starting to be a little scared.

"It can be anyone, really," Harmony said, "Organisations who have enough manpower to threaten your family or what you hold dear if you don't work for them. Men who betray your trust once they've bought you. They can even blackmail you into letting yourself be bought."

"Bastards," Gem spat.

"Fucking bastards!" Harmony agreed, holding up her tea cup before shooting it as if it was alcohol.

"You sound like you've experienced it first-hand," Aeris asked them, tea cup trembling slightly between her hands. She was starting to wish she'd just stayed in her room and minded her own business, nursing her illusions a little longer.

"We haven't," Gem started, at which Harmony gave a snort.

"Yeah, I hope I'm still alive the day your precious First Class decides to buy you. You're safe for the moment, rotting down here and being at his beck and call. How long has it been now? Ten months?"  
"You've got a First Class client? As in the SOLDIER First Class?" Aeris gaped as Gem reached over to give Harmony a rather regal slap.

"Shut up. At least I _have_ a regular," she growled.

"So what? I'd rather have a more sporadic clientele than a guy calling me _mistress _and asking me to crush small mammals with stilettos as foreplay," Harmony laughed.

"You really have no idea what masochism is about," Gem sniffed, "There's a whole psychological depth to it. And – ah, fuck it, I've been over this a thousand times."

Harmony opened her arms in mock-defeat. "You know, I don't really care anyway - I prefer my men to have a shred of self-worth, thanks very much."

"Who is it?" Aeris asked, bursting with curiosity.

"Can't tell you that," Gem smiled at her rather mischievously, "But maybe you'll see him if you get picked for Upperworld work at next inspection day."

"But what's it _like_?" Aeris checked herself; she was supposed to be scared of being recognized if any of the First Class saw her, not insanely curious about it all. "I mean, how did you manage to get him as a regular? I thought First Class didn't indulge in this sort of thing."

"Oh, they indulge in a lot of things," Gem said with a conspiratory wink. "You've just got to catch their eye, guess what they want. They all have a weakness, something they're missing."

"Except Sephiroth," Vale suddenly piped up.

"Fuck knows what he wants," Harmony added, raising her eyebrows.

"He attends events that include us?" This was almost too much information for Aeris to swallow.

"_If_ you get picked," Gem reminded her.

"Yeah, he attends military ceremonies and high society dinners and the like." Harmony sipped her tea in between phrases. "Last time I saw him, we were the main attraction at a private dinner; we did a striptease for them while they talked politics. Dirty buggers."

Gem was laughing. "Oh yeah, I remember that. It was quite a legendary night, and in your standards that's saying quite a lot, isn't it darling?" She ducked playfully as Harmony swatted at her. Aeris still couldn't tell if this was a game between them or if they really hated each other. "If Harmony knows anything about the great General's frigidity, it's because she's always - " Swat, duck. " – the first - " Punch, duck. "- to throw herself at him and come on, stop it!"

"A woman's got to take her chances," Harmony growled at her. "It's easy to give yourself the image of a dominatrix, since there's always gonna be a simpering little fuck that'll be searching for that kind of thing. But when you choose not to give any particular image – well, it's a much harder game."

"Yeah well, everybody knows the first rule of that game is to _not_ talk politics," Gem said, still grinning doggishly at Harmony. "You should've seen it, it was beautiful. There she is, a dressed up hooker from down below, sitting on the counter while the General gets himself a drink; he's looking up at her coolly, you know, like he's assessing the danger of the situation, and she's smiling down at him as if she knows exactly what he wants. We're all staring at her of course – like we always do whenever somebody manages to get the General's attention. And the idiot actually starts asking how the dinner's going, if they're reaching any conclusive agreements about the problem of equal salaries!"

"It was a fair question," Harmony said, trying to keep a certain dignity about her, "Inequality affects everyone."

"I'll just leave you to imagine the look on Sephiroth's face – a prostitute talking about equal salaries. I mean come on, that's just too good."

"How did he react exactly?" Aeris asked, having difficulty picturing the situation since she didn't really know what Sephiroth looked like; the only times she'd seen him was in gritty, pixelated images on the TV.

"He looked at her like she was from a completely different planet - "

"He did not," Harmony cut through sharply, "He took my question into consideration."

"And then he backed away slowly."

"He didn't just take off like that!" Harmony shouted angrily, "He told me that I was right to be interested, because the problem touched every kind of career, even the most menial ones."

"In conclusion," Gem said with a theatrical wave of the arms, "He is _also_ a crumby little bastard."

"Did you just call Sephiroth a crumby little bastard?" Harmony looked at her with wide eyes. "Why? He was really polite."

"He said you had a shitty career!"

"Prostitution _is_ a shitty career, last time I looked." Clearly she couldn't see where Gem was coming from, though Aeris seemed to understand both of their positions. She didn't dare speak up though; the two were simply too loud.

"Yeah, but it's not like we have a choice," Gem protested, "He just went and spat on all of us, and you thought he was being _polite_. It's a known fact that he couldn't care less for hookers and our cause. Come on, Harmony, get over him."

"There's nothing to _get over_," Harmony shot back, "That was the only time I ever went after him. Vale's the one who's got a thing for him."

"Vale's certainly not the only one," Gem smiled cheekily, overrunning Vale's weak "Hey!" of protest.

"Still, I didn't even imagine that girls from the HoneyBee could possibly reach him and his entourage," Aeris spoke up in order to come in the way of another fight; she was starting to feel comfortable enough to express herself a little more freely, what with the effusive manners of her companions.

"Yeah, it might seem pretty high on the social ladder to you, but…" Harmony shot a steely glance at Gem, "…the higher you go, the more twisted they are."

"A bit too intellectual for you, Harmony?" the woman retorted, but she was interrupted by the door opening – a mane of dark hair framed the surprised face of Zack Fair as he peeked in. Aeris started as the women started chucking pillows at him, crying out that this was a private tea party and for him to bugger off immediately.

"Ok, ok," he was laughing as he nursed his battered face, stepping into the room, "Just a heads up, it's 4:30, home time."

He looked down at Aeris with a grin as the women started getting up.

"What are you doing in this nest of vipers?" He stepped in to help her up. "They'll spoil you if you listen to them too much."

"And you aren't a bad influence at all," Aeris chided him, letting him take her under one arm and lead her out into the corridor amidst the noisy bustle.

"Nope," he said, looking down at her fondly. "In fact, I'm going to take you to your mother's right now."

"Oh, you're so good to me," Aeris railed him, rolling her eyes.

"See? Sarcasm. Bad vibes."

The flowergirl smiled to herself, wriggling out from under his arm and holding her head up, feeling an unusual surge of feminism blossoming in her.

"Let's go then."

•

You're unbelievable, do you know that?  
The fact that you're working here at all still surprises me. I'll open my door when my bell rings, prepared to go fetch my client, and you'll be there in the corridor talking with one or two other girls, one foot hooked behind your knee, voluptuous forms only barely hinted at under the light tumble of pastel clothes. And once again the simple fact that you can be associated to the notion of sexuality will completely amaze me. I mean, you've always known I was a woman's man – but likewise, I always thought you were practically asexual, that the space between your legs was for perfunctory uses only. If I was so delighted by your company in the beginning, it was precisely because every woman that frequents us SOLDIERs is mainly attracted by the buff quality of our bodies, most of the time caring nothing for our intellects – it's even a joke among them, to be with a SOLDIER for their personalities. And you… you possessed more femininity than all of them put together – and you were never as ridiculously lustful as them, you never seemed to look at men and see only physical opportunities like them. It was a relief of sorts, to know there was no basis upon whose evolution our friendship could crumble; to know you didn't want anything from me except my company.

So you can imagine my wonder as I sit by your door, hearing the sounds of ecstasy that you manage to extract from your current client – I never seem to hear you though. Sometimes there are small, strangled cries, but it's obvious that you repress them as soon as they emerge. It's frustrating, your silence – it's aggravating even as a simple onlooker, so I can't imagine what your men must feel like as they try everything to make you utter a single sound, how flattering it must be when you finally yield even the smallest syllable of content.

I know you look through my keyhole sometimes. I'm not going to apologize for doing the same.  
Tonight he's particularly pleasing to the eye; longish blond hair, muscular build. I watch him manipulating you roughly, hands flattened over the small of your back; you're on your knees, chest crushed against the mattress, spine dipping downwards elegantly, the curve of the waist deepening with each thrust. One arm is folded by your side, covers bunching around your hand as you hold onto them out of pain or pleasure – the struggle always looks the same for either sensation. Shadows trickle along muscular hollows as he tenses with each thrust – a sweat-slick hand slips down your back and he leans over you, breathing so heavily that even I'm starting to feel aroused by the sound of his pleasure. Your face is turned away, and then as he quickens the pace you flip your head so that you're facing the door – your brow is scrunched in a frown, eyes half-open and glittering with a red wetness. The curve of your waist deepens as he leans over you even more – I was marvelling at how flexible you are but clearly he's hurting you – nevertheless, you stay stone silent, though your lips part with the pain of it. The swell of your breast flattens over the mattress as you're crushed against it; and then just as you start crawling forwards to relieve your back, he throws his head back, eyes closed and lower lip hanging open as he groans with satisfaction.

I'm distracted by a group of girls scuttling down the corridor; one of them slaps me across the back of my head, calling me a pervert, so I look up at them with a grin. The selection of women here is so thorough in its requirements of beauty and general features that it's the best place to be if you want to get to know beautiful specimens – though I have to say, you're the only one with such girlish features. I look again – and quickly move away as the man starts dressing. It wouldn't do to be caught looking, especially by the client himself. I wouldn't want to sully your reputation.

When all's taken care of and you come back from the office, walking slowly down the corridor with your eyes downcast, I'm waiting for you with an arm leaning against your closed door. You look up and immediately blush, a smile of embarrassment curling on your lips.

"Get out of the way, some of us have to work," you admonish me playfully, though the dark smudges under your eyes tell of your exhaustion.

"Do you have anyone right now?" I ask, and you sigh.

"I don't know." You step forward, eyes on the door handle. "I don't think so. Things are a bit slow tonight."

"Then let me give you a little massage," I say with a smile, "I know you need one."

"Zack!" you exclaim, outraged but too tired to fight me – you knock a fist against my shoulder, a weak simile of a punch, and try to push me out the way with your shoulder as you take your door handle. "I don't see why you carry on with that flirty weirdness even when we're in here, with nothing to hide. You might've seen too much of my skin but that doesn't mean you have permission to touch it."

You always make me laugh with that offhandedness, that utter lack of care when it comes to our relationship. We might be in a position where lusting after one another becomes inevitable, but you don't seem to be affected by it at all. Or maybe you're just starting to excel at hiding things, like you hide your pleasure, your pain, your true feelings.

"I do have permission, sometimes," I say, grabbing the door just as you start opening it.

"That's because it's necessary," you say with a tired, pleading look. "Can you just leave me alone for a bit? I've got to tidy up."

"Oh come on, 'Ris." You're always so determined to flatten any hesitant, flirtatious growth of our friendship. I don't see why that should be so; I can protect you. I could do so much for you, if only you'd accept help. "It's only a massage. I can hear your muscles creaking from here."

You afford me one of those light, tinkering laughs of yours, before pushing against the door again.

"Ok, ok," you say, and I'm practically taken aback by how easily you give yourself up. "Gaia, I feel like I've been folded in two." Then you suddenly look up at me with a tired grin, messy braid whipping around your shoulder. "Don't expect me to return the favour though."

"What made you think I was so selfish?" I put out my hands to show how innocent I am. "It's pure good intentions, as it always is."  
You laugh again.

"Like I'll believe that."

I follow you into your room, and you go over to your bed, pulling the covers away and sitting down. I watch with a dry throat as you sweep away the straps of your top and pull it down so that it creases around your hips; your back is divided by a deep line, muscles still shining with sweat. There are bruises around your shoulders, and your skin is otherwise dotted with moles, accentuating your natural pallor.

You lay down on your belly, arms coming up to pillow your head, and you remind me in a muffled voice; "No funny business, like you said."

I try to think of wailing babies and sliced body parts as I come up to you, placing one knee on either side of your thighs. I ease down onto the backs of your thighs, feeling the heat radiating from your body between my legs – guts! Spilling guts and body parts! – and place my palms lightly on the small of your back. I can't help seeing the man's hands in this exact place, and thinking about what position you were in when he had them there – oh, man. My thumbs deepen their pressure on either side of your spine just at your waist and you groan with satisfaction. Ah! So you can be expressive. But, as I climb up between your shoulderblades, you practically cry out in delight – your skin is so soft and malleable… oh man, oh man!

"Stop groaning, you sound like a bear," I try to joke as I feel myself starting to harden; you laugh, chest bobbing under my hands.

"I can't help it, it feels lovely," you say so innocently that I can't believe you're still unaware of the implications behind what you say.

"I can see that," I say, "Your muscles are rock hard." And they're not the only – no, Zack. Concentrate.

I keep going up to your shoulders, pressing and kneading your flesh, and you tense and relax under my fingers according to the state of your muscles.

"Go up to my neck," you say lazily, voice still muffled by your arms, "On either side of my spine as you've been doing."

"Yes, ma'am." I comply – and then you give such a wanton moan that this time I can't help my erection. I shift so that it doesn't press against the fleshy domes of your backside, fighting against the urge to reverse the act. You're still groaning as I continue down your shoulders, softer this time.

"Stop it," I end up growling, desire mounting from the base of my spine to tickle the back of my head and infecting my arms. I can't do this. You don't want it, and I can't let myself abuse of your trust – moments like these are so rare. I can't spoil it!

"Stop what?" you ask, always innocent.

"Groaning like that," I bite out, trying to summon the most grotesque images I can to make it go down. "I thought your technique was cold silence."

"Why are you talking about technique?" you protest, "I'm not doing anything. My back's just really sore, and you feel wonderful."

"Aeris," I smile at your hundredth double-meaning, "You of all people should understand what effect you can have on a man even if it's involuntary."

"Oh, I see," you sigh lazily, "Well, control yourself then. You know I won't allow you to touch me."

"But I am touching you." I can't believe this, how blindly you can trust me.

"You know what I mean," you say, as if controlling myself was the easiest thing in the world; as if you couldn't care less about the fact that I want to fuck you senseless whenever I so much as lay eyes on you, because I can 'control myself' anyway.

Do you know how much torture it is to be trusted so much? If anything happens, I'll not only be breaking the promise I made to myself, but also the one that was implicitly made between you and me. You think that I'm never serious, don't you? You think I'm in the same practical state of mind as you. But I don't even know what I think any more. I could tell myself it's only lust, but even if it is lust, it's so consuming that I can hardly keep it back – and now… you're warm and trusting and relaxed between my legs, smiling with benign satisfaction, and I find myself looking down at the darkness between your thighs, just at the base of your bottom.

I lean down and place a kiss on the small of your back – and you immediately tense under my hands.

"What are you doing?"

Shit. "Sorry!"

"What do you mean, sorry?" You drag your legs up from between my thighs, pulling up the front of your top to cover your breasts as you stand up shakily. "You think you can just play with me like that – it's starting to be really boring, you know." Your cheeks are bright red as you glare down at me – then your gaze seems to go from angry to hesitant as you sort through the meanings of this situation. Then your eyes drop to the floor. "Zack… get out, please."

You're so fucking irresistible even when you protest. Now that I've crossed the boundary I can't help wanting to know what could happen if I go just a little further – pushing just a little more against the limits of our bond. I know you want this too. You can't always be so invulnerable to my approach.

I get up and try to embrace you – you slap my arms away, retreating towards the door. You look at me accusingly, almost hurt, before turning around to open the door. I can't control myself anymore, consumed by frustration as I am – I don't even hear your cry of surprise as I grab your wrists, turn you around to face me, and slam you against the door. Stepping forward, I press the entire length of my body against you, sighing in satisfaction as my swollen manhood presses against your stomach.

You're mute with rage, I can tell – but there's fear in your face too, since I'm guessing you're not stupid enough to believe you could overcome me if I do try anything. It almost hurts me to see you afraid of me, but at the same time it's so _exciting_.

"When are you going to stop pretending that there's nothing but friendship between us?" I growl, "You play coy and then you expect me to just contain myself?"

"Yes!" you exclaim, as if it's totally obvious. I look down; your wrists being against the wall, your top is no longer covering your chest; your breasts are bare, skin gleaming like pale satin. You squirm under my scrutiny, heat rising to your cheeks. "Let me go."

You don't even know how lovely you look in all that confusion of anger and humiliation. I smile at you.

"What if I say no?"

"Zack, for the love of- "

I swallow your protest in a violent kiss, tasting you, biting down on the fleshy bulge of your lower lip – and then WHAM, pain, PAIN between my legs – oh sweet mother of God – I'm on the floor before I know it, hands clenched between my legs, and you're looking down at me with concern shining in your eyes – you drop down next to me, seemingly appalled at yourself.

"Oh, Zack!" Your voice is tremulous with worry, and yeah, you should be worrying - it'll be a miracle if you haven't broken me in two - oh man, oh it HURTS it hurts! "I'm so sorry!"

"No you're not," I hiss against the pain, shrugging off the pressure of your hand as you try to comfort me.

"You know the limits," you say pleadingly, like you don't want me to be mad. "You brought this on yourself." You think I'm not going to be mad? You think I'm not mad right now? I am! I'm mad with pain – I roll over onto my back, sucking in air.

"You bitch," is all I can squeeze out.

I can almost feel the hurt look you give me; and I know this is all my fault, but still. You could've been gentler about it. You get up from my side in a rustle of light cloth, and then you just leave me there, writhing on the floor, all dignity forgotten. Bloody woman!

•

"Zack?"

The Second Class was limping as he came into the training room. He saluted his mentor as the First Class simulation disintegrated, pixels flowing down the walls like virtual cascades. Sephiroth and Genesis were at the back of the room, Genesis panting as he went over to sit on one of the crates by the wall, Sephiroth looking over at Zack inquiringly as he straightened his trench coat with his free hand.

"You're limping," Angeal stated rather uselessly.

"Morning, sir," Zack said miserably, "I think I might skip this morning's session, if you don't mind."

"What is this? What happened?" Angeal asked, frowning.

"It's the new girlfriend, isn't it?" Genesis laughed, not even glancing over at them from where he sat. "I met her the other day, and honestly, I think she might be too much for him to handle."

"I've always wondered why they all bother to endure Mako enhancement, if none of them can handle a simple girl," Sephiroth sighed, to which Genesis laughed.

"Depends which regions actually receive the enhancement."

Sephiroth tutted. "Always so low."

"It has nothing to do with Aeris," Zack growled at them.

"_Pride is lost,"_ Genesis quoted playfully, "_Wings stripped away, the end is nigh."_

"It has nothing to do with her!" Zack shouted, having no patience for this. He turned to Angeal and lowered his voice. "Can I have my morning? I'll make it up to you."

Just as Angeal was smiling threateningly at how he'd find ways for his pupil to make it up to him, Sephiroth started walking towards them, trailing his blade behind him regally.

"A man who dreams of making First Class never hides behind physical impediments," he started gravely, eyes trailing on the ground as he advanced towards the black-haired pair. "The concentration needed to set aside the pain is precisely what gives you strength during battle."

"But, sir - "

The General swept his gaze up from the ground quite suddenly, piercing the Second Class through and through with pale, stern eyes, effectively shutting him up.

"Do not frequent women if it distracts you from your goal," he said before lifting his blade, other arm coming up to balance the weight.

"He's right," Genesis said with a speculative look on his face. "I mean, who needs women? They just get in the way, don't they? No fun to be had there. Just _impediments_."

Zack didn't have the time to respond – there was a surreal hiss of metal, silver slashing through the air, and he only just had the time to whip his sword from his back and block the blow – he crashed down onto one knee with the weight of the blow, grinding his teeth at the effort and the pain that was throbbing dully around his stomach and crotch. Angeal had stepped back to give the pair some room though he didn't approve of Sephiroth approaching his pupil, as always; but Zack did need a lesson in commitment.

The silver-haired man leaned over his adversary, pushing down on the man's sword- sparks sputtered from the screeching contact.

"Creating your own liability is the mark of a weak man," he baritoned, before snaking the thin blade around Zack's so that it was underneath the blade rather than on top of it - with a sudden upward twitch, Zack's sword was pulled from his hands and thrown spinning into the air as if it were a mere stick.

Genesis laughed at how easily he'd been unarmed; feeling his cheeks grow hot with humiliation, Zack let his hands drop to his knee, looking up at Sephiroth from his wholly submissive stance.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said through gritted teeth. "Everyone is entitled to one or two bad days, right?"

"If I were your mentor I'd have you castrated," the man responded, lifting an eyebrow in something like mild disgust; and Genesis applauded him from behind them.

"Oh, how _rich_," the redhead laughed as Angeal came to help his pupil up, "Watch out, Zack. Our friend can be very bitter about having no functional sexuality. It's just jealousy, really."

Zack could've sworn he saw the General smile to himself, then – but before he could retort, Angeal had taken his arm and was dragging him towards the exit, fuming with indignation at his pupil's behaviour.

"Come on," the man growled as Zack tried to get back on his feet rather than let himself be dragged like an old sandbag.

"Angeal!" Genesis' high voice called after them, "You still haven't said - will you be going to the Weapon's Department reunion tonight then, or won't you?"

"I don't think so, Genesis," Angeal replied as if the very idea was ridiculous.

"Suit yourself. Perhaps it'd make good training for your pupil," the redhead went on, "There'll be _women_."

"Then bring Sephiroth with you," Angeal retorted, "Perhaps he needs a clearer idea on how dangerous women can be before admonishing the first man who shows weakness."

"For the last time," Zack cried out indignantly though no one seemed to be listening to him, "It wasn't Aeris!"

"Sure it wasn't," Genesis sneered after them, "I'll be at the Condor at noon, if ever you want to bring her along so I can congratulate her on her skill at handling ill-mannered pups."

Zack let out a feral yell of pure frustration. "_Fuck you_, Genesis!_"_

"Zack." Angeal was ready to stick each of their heads in a bucket and have Scarlett try the latest robotic machinery on them. "Just… shut up and follow me."

•

"Inspection day!"

The women were lined up in three rows from wall to wall in the reception room, the procurer looking them up and down as he made his way through the sparkling, half-naked bodies.

Aeris couldn't help trembling as she stood amidst her own row, clad in a transparent dress with embroidered golden flowers coming to cover all the appropriate places. The most well-off had shared their gifts with the new girls who hadn't yet had any contact with the Upperworld; her garment was Vale's, and it itched rather badly around her chest.

If any of them were picked, they would have to start working that very night, and the flowergirl still couldn't get her head around whether or not she actually wanted that kind of attention; she knew she needed to be earning more money if she wanted to make all of this cost-effective, but then again… She wouldn't be wearing masks when she was up there. She'd be at everyone's mercy.

The procurer would stop before the girls, opening his portfolio and checking them out coolly, dropping a cold "You" when he picked them out for his Upperworld contracts. The simple process seemed so alien to her, as if there was this strange web of authorities that suddenly held sway over her life, and she couldn't believe she was actually here, that she had actually chosen this. It almost felt like an out-of-body experience. Her willpower was vacillating inside of her again, making her want to clutch at her sides so that it wouldn't seep out between her ribs and escape.

She closed her eyes. _This is so stupid. What am I doing!_  
The squeak of lacquered heels was bearing down on her as she watched thoughts in discord race across the backs of her eyelids – and then just as she was about to open her mouth to excuse herself, somehow get out of this, somehow find another solution – he stopped right in front of her.

She opened her eyes in surprise and lifted her chin to meet his gaze.

"You," he said.

•


	4. Chapter 4

_Sorry for the delay! You get an extra long chapter for being patient. :) Again, I believe I'm still having too much fun with the characters and that this chapter could therefore be much shorter - but I don't really know what to cut. Ah, well. Will revise it later.  
Again, thanks to HazzaTL3, Catsitta, Aerodwen, and Fern for the lovely reviews!  
Fern- Haha, yes, I swear I'll finish this one! I'm very flattered that you find the writing competent. As for the shifting perspectives, it's really just whimsical for the moment but later I'll be using it for better immersion, if I can pull it off. Strangely enough I haven't seen many fics with this triangle, so yeah, exploring it is certainly going to be interesting. :D_

_Thanks for reading if you've made it this far - I hope I won't disappoint with this chapter! Don't hesitate to tell me what you think, if you find it too long (even if you stopped reading in the middle, it'd be good to know what you think I should cut out), or if it has unnecessary scenes etc._

_Music: The songs featured in this chapter are Te Quiero Puta by Rammstein, and Seven Devils by Florence and the Machine._

* * *

_**Border of Taboo**_

**4**

_**• • •**_

Heels extended like flower stems, long and seemingly frail as they came up to embrace many a rounded heel. Side-on, the women's legs seemed almost to curve backwards, prolonging the curves of their backs, carved into concavity as they were by well-adorned spines.

Each woman would eel down the platform with the latest gimmick of weapons technology clutched between their hands; the brutality of the weapons would be lost in multicoloured nebulae of cloth and jewels as the women presented them, taking appropriate poses according to each gadget.

It seemed simple enough a concept. There was one problem though; Aeris had never worn 8-inch platform heels.

Well, then again she could keep going in the same vein if feeling utterly incapable was her goal; she had never strutted around half-naked in a private Upperworld conference room gripping weapons worth a thousand times her own person, either. But, she could do that. Yeah. No immediate danger would come from that. However, the thought of being in constant danger of breaking her ankles or having her kneecaps pop right out of her legs was really starting to make her panic.

"Darling," Gem had tried to comfort her as they got ready in the adjoining room with the other ladies, "It's easy to get used to, you'll see. After the first few steps…"

"I can't wear these, I just _can't_," Aeris was saying, practically hysterical with panic as she angled her feet in her shoes; the platforms were transparent, and the shoe itself held her foot and leg in transparent, nylon-like fabric encrusted with rhinestone azaleas that coiled right up to her thighs. There were small rhinestone straps hidden in the patterns to secure her feet, but still! It was ridiculous! She was almost crying out of helpless rage at the bloody shoes and at how damn _stupid_ her situation was, surrounded by women who seemed utterly comfortable to walk around with long fluttery pieces of fabric _and_ gigantic heels.

"I'll fall face-first into them." If she was lucky; better a soft, squishy diplomat than her neck against the back of a chair.

"I bet they'll like that," Harmony grinned at her, warming up her ankles in her equally monstrous heels. Gem's were startlingly black as they glittered and crawled up her legs, making the sight even more garish; then again her entire outfit was leather and dark, translucent chiffon. It seemed like no stylist could resist matching her attire to her face; the guns would only be a welcome addition.

"Come on, get up here and I'll show you," she said, getting up from where she'd been crouching next to Aeris and positively towering over her, gloved hand outstretched.

"Oh, Gaia." For the first time in her life, Aeris really, _heartily_ despised being a woman.

_**•**_

"Scarlet's hosting."

"Oh, dear _Gods_."

"Yeah, this is bound to be good."

Sephiroth wasn't even frowning – it was beyond that. His face had withdrawn into a sort of wary indifference that meant if anything displeasing crossed his path, he would immediately find a means to _annihilate_ it with any environing object. Genesis was laughing like a little boy as he struggled to pull up the man's sleeves in order to see if he hadn't hidden some materia-ridden gauntlets under there as they waited in the elevator with several other men.  
"My _dear_ friend," the redhead was saying with exaggerated insolence, "This is not my fault. While I'd be flattered that you find me so persuasive a man, I have to say, if you chose to come at all it was entirely on some personal bout of curiosity, not because I _forced_ you to. Everybody knows; this man cannot be forced_._"

"Trust me," the man said, "It's not out of curiosity that I go to get updated on my treatment. I'm not that immune to persuasion."

"So you're comparing a dinner with women wearing only weapons and ropes of ammo, to an hour of treatment?" Genesis brought up his hands, giving a theatrical wail of despair, "Such physical potential, all gone to waste."

The look on the General's face clearly spelled out distress at the fact that this building had so many damn storeys.

"Always the women with you. The only woman I don't care to see is Scarlet," he tried to justify himself with a sigh, knowing it wouldn't get him anywhere. "She offends any sane man's intelligence. As for the rest, I understand they'll be serving purely ornamental purposes, so why you should make the dinner all about them is beyond me. Heidegger and Hojo are the only reasons for my reluctance."

"Oh, but it goes _far _beyond ornamental purposes, my friend," Genesis laughed, and he had to summon a great deal of humour to be able to withstand the withering, _blazing_ look the General gave him.

"Genesis, if you put _one more_ sexual innuendo into what you're saying I swear I'll rape you myself."

That successfully shut him up for the rest of the trip.

_**•**_

The music was unbelievably loud for a 'work reunion', but most of the participants knew that when Scarlet hosted, it never had that clean, professional sterility that reunions often had. The two Firsts were greeted by several ShinRa workers and scientists as they walked in; it took what seemed like an eternity before they finally found Scarlett and the heads of the Weapons Department in order to 'formally' greet them.

"Scarlet!" Genesis extended his arms as she turned around to meet them. He'd never really been fond of the woman, but he approved of her style, and that was enough to be affectionate. He let her take him by the shoulders and press her immoderate bosom against him shamelessly, kissing both his cheeks. Sephiroth gave him a surreptitious glance while this went on, to which Genesis grinned – they both knew it was all playacting with the ShinRa heads.

"My favourite Firsts," Scarlet was saying – funnily enough she checked her advances when she came to Sephiroth, contenting herself with a handshake.

"How _are _you both? I've heard so much about your prowess, though to be honest I'm more up to date about your simulation testing than the handling of our latest international fuck-ups."

"That would be me," Sephiroth deadpanned, deflating the chest of his partner who'd been puffing up with pride.

But Scarlet didn't seem to have heard him as she swept around and began walking away, clearly expecting them to follow her. After a brief glance at each other, the two men complied. "If our testers weren't as handsome I suppose our simulation branch wouldn't be so fanatic about upgrading," she went on, "Same goes for the weapons branch as you can see. Then again if you weren't such damn traditionalists, I suspect the production speed would accelerate tenfold, which is _not_ something I'd want to handle. My schedule is pretty damn full already." Genesis was laughing – he tried to open his mouth to protest, since both of them were generously paid to include ShinRa firearms in their arsenal, tested or not. But the woman ploughed on, leading them towards the tables where the heads were milling around, not knowing whether or not to sit. "So this is how it goes. The professionals come in with the new weaponry, and we summarize our new technology during each presentation. There are pauses for eventual buyers to express their interest."

"There'll be bidding?" Genesis asked, and the woman finally turned her head towards him in acknowledgment of his presence in the conversation.

"Yes."

"Oh, goodie," the redhead smiled, to which Sephiroth gave a sharp, exasperated exhale.

"Already tired of your new toys?" he admonished, and Genesis feigned a hurt look.

"My twin blades will always hold a special place in my heart," he said, placing a theatrical hand on his breast. "But as long as they're too weak to overpower you, I'll have to find new mistresses of steel."

"Weapons don't make the warrior," Sephiroth railed him with a rare grin, effectively stealing away Genesis' mirth as was his habit whenever they spoke of combat abilities.

"I'm afraid you're wrong, General – anything's possible when you've got ShinRa manufacturers at your back," Scarlet broke in, and Genesis glanced at her approvingly.

"The Masamune isn't a ShinRa weapon," Sephiroth argued.

"Oh, shut up," Scarlet snapped – Sephiroth had a habit of waving his weapon in front of their noses, only to whisk it away as soon as they tried to bribe him into handing it over so that they could make replicas that would be easier to handle and just as deadly. Conversation was pointless when it came to that subject. And they'd arrived at the tables anyway, so with one last lingering look at Genesis and one brief, irritable glance at Sephiroth, the crimson-clad woman broke away from them as the men started getting up.

"The First Class elite," she introduced them as Heidegger hauled his gigantic gut over his table to greet them.

"Boys!" the monstrous man shouted, coming to pat them on the back and practically knocking them into the tables. They were ushered to their seats, and the music was lowered slightly to allow conversation. Genesis spoke for the both of them, eager to please as always, whilst Sephiroth spent most of the conversation reclining on his chair, arms folded with one finger twitching impatiently, eyes on the entrance to see who was attending. There were questions as to Angeal's absence, and Sephiroth smiled to himself discreetly as Genesis made something up – sometimes he wondered why he didn't listen to the rational friend rather than the despotic one. He was starting to wish he'd followed Angeal's example as Hojo appeared at the tables, sitting down a few seats away. There were times when he'd feel the absence of his Masamune like a cold burn across his back – and as he felt the scientists leering across the tables at him, he felt his fingers tightening automatically around an imaginary hilt.

The music ebbed away as red and green lights began sweeping across the walls, the ordinary lights being shut off one by one so that a heady, primeval ambiance could encroach on the habitual mood. Sephiroth's gaze broke away from the door as someone bumped him from behind – and then Scarlet's arms had appeared around his friend's shoulders.

"You're going to like this," she told him as the redhead surreptitiously looked over at Sephiroth, eyes wide in a playful grimace of horror. He checked himself just as Sephiroth suppressed a smile, tilting his head back so that he was leaning against Scarlet's bosom.

"You know I always adore your arrangements, Scarlet," he purred.

"I hired our professionals from the same spot as before," the head of Weapons Department grinned, and Genesis' expression immediately sobered. Sephiroth looked at him curiously – it wasn't often that Genesis lost his much-needed glamorous façade when they were in public like this. He hoped the man wouldn't sober up too much – he had to admit it, he'd become rather dependent on his friend's energetic demeanour when it came to ShinRa meetings, be they official or officious like this particular occasion.

"Have I ever told you how much I love you?" Genesis was saying, and Scarlet laughed, letting her arms slip away from his shoulders as she straightened and headed back to her seat.

"Never when I really deserve it," she replied over her shoulder, "And only when what I do suits you. But don't they all?"

"Anyone you know?" the General asked once Scarlet was out of earshot.

"Oh yes," Genesis grinned at him mysteriously, his expression oddly changed.

Then just as an expectant silence was settling, there was the sound of galloping hooves – the audience was looking at the stage where an empty holographic board waited to be lit with information according to each weapon. Half the audience jumped as there was a glorious sputtering of trumpets, columns of gas exploding at regular intervals across the stage border. They'd improvised a catwalk out of two tables – the lights swept across them erratically before hovering on the curtain at the left side of the stage. Just as a heavy drumbeat began bouncing across the audience's stomachs, the curtain fluttered aside – a woman's voice shouted _Adelante, amigos!_ in the song, and a figure began walking down the stage, lost in shadows and smoke as she advanced slowly to the middle of the stage to the sound of heavy guitars and a gravely masculine voice. _Vamos, vamos, mi amor …_ The lights avoided her, sweeping near enough to make her jewel-clad legs scintillate, catching on the vague forms of her weapons. _Me gusta mucho tu savor… _Then just as she stopped in the centre of the stage, facing the public, the lights speared straight at her, the drums gave a messy improvised rhythm before dropping completely, and the singer shouted – _TE QUIERO PUTA!  
_

Genesis was laughing – many of the men were laughing at the song choice. Sephiroth was fighting the urge to bury his face in his hands. The woman came down the tables, which were just next to them, giving the men an ideal vantage point. She was wielding what looked like two whips – Sephiroth squinted as he tried to make out the seemingly biomechanical details of the two beauties through the smoke and men's heads as they started crowding around the makeshift catwalk. _Más, más, más, __por favor… _The girl smiled through the glittering black paint that adorned her face – she lifted the whips slowly, out of the smoke, so that it became apparent that they had swallowed her hands and forearms in artful swirls of black – there had to be some sort of handle or means of manoeuvrability in her hidden fingers, because there was a click and hum of electricity as a pulsating green energy began trickling down both whips. The green light made her skin glow as she stared down haughtily at the public, before violently bringing down a whip and letting loose a splintering crack of energy.

Sephiroth practically blanched at the sight of a prostitute wielding classified ShinRa weaponry. He looked around to see if there was any sort of enforced dissuasion to use the weapons on the public, noticing absently that Genesis had left his side – indeed, there were guards at the back of the room who had weapons at the ready. But still, he found it unbelievably stupid that these uneducated and surely very vehement girls were allowed to actually turn on the weapons for the demonstration.

He got up and went over to Scarlet as the public wolf-whistled and applauded the grotesque show.

"Whose wonderful idea was this?" he shouted in her ear as she looked up at him from where she was sitting, attention all but absorbed by the golden liquor and important men and weaponry.

"All mine," she grinned, knowing full well from the look on Sephiroth's face that he didn't approve. But then again if anybody depended on Sephiroth's approval for anything they might as well wait until the Weapons' awakening.

"So you don't care that these girls could very well kill a dozen odd ShinRa executives _before_ being shot?"

"Now why would they do that?" Scarlet sneered at him, pivoting on her chair so she could face him. "They'd lose their primary source of income. These girls wouldn't gain anything by killing any of us. Put yourselves in their position – all they see here is inflated purses and opportunities to offer themselves a year's worth of good meals. Not political posterboys to kill for the sake of anti-capitalism." The woman laughed. "I don't think you can afford to be anti-capitalist when you're a whore. Shared goods and universally owned professional assets, my arse. How would you like it if your cunt belonged to the State?"

She was laughing at her own joke, and Sephiroth felt like vomiting. Or perhaps annihilating the entire female population of Midgar.

"That doesn't even make sense," he spat, "You disgusting woman."

"Oh, you know you love me," Scarlet giggled.

"What about accidents?"

"Not going to happen," Scarlet sighed, "I know these girls. There are only a few new ones but they've never let me down. Now sit your tight arse down and enjoy yourself for once, you silly man."

Sephiroth glared down at her. "Perhaps you should take up their job if it amuses you so much."

"Perhaps you should too," she shot back, "Loosen you up a little."

"I don't need loosening," he growled.

"I know you don't," she smiled, "On the contrary. It's _hardening_ that you need."

"Oh don't worry," the General said, his voice a thinly veiled threat, "I use whetted steel to compensate."

They were interrupted by the Weapons Department spokesmen as they began turning on the weapon description on the holographic board and introducing the weapon. The music had been turned down so that they could be heard, and the woman was turning this way and that to show off the weapons, adopting approximate poses of aggression and defence. As the information went on, Sephiroth glanced over at the crowd to see if he could locate Genesis – the man was standing directly in front of the prostitute, a few steps away. He was smiling up at her in what looked like adoration, and when she cracked her whips it was him that she glanced down at, still wearing that disdainful, haughty expression that fleetingly gave her face the quality of a queen's. Being all in black, she was truly a sight to behold – but all Sephiroth could think of was how such handsome features were utterly wasted on a hooker. He moved away from Scarlet's chair in order to get his glass of liquor and stand nearer the wall, sighing in an attempt to let go of the irritation the damn woman had provoked. He'd ask Genesis what was the reason for his apparent fascination later – for now, he needed to blend into the crowd and force himself to be curious about the weapons instead of appalled by the girls themselves. Ornaments, Genesis had said – they were only ornaments. Nothing that should aggravate him too much. That is, as long as they stayed onstage.

_**•**_

There had been about eight women to have presented their weapons – and now it was her turn. Aeris was shaking in her heels like a newborn filly getting used to her overly long legs. Each girl had their own song to perform to since the presentations were all supposed to last 10 minutes, plus a few more for eventual bids. Hegemony had stayed onstage for at least half an hour – the other girls had stayed around fifteen minutes, and Aeris hoped against hope that she could break the records of speedy presentations.

They'd given her the staff she'd been preparing to wield – all week she'd practiced with sticks to be able to execute the proper twirling for the demo. It had only one feeble materia in its many slots so that she could power it up in an example of its capacities. There was a little mechanism that she should use to activate the materia since she wasn't supposed to know how to activate it - but she was still wondering whether to use it or to test her own abilities. It wasn't wise to show off that kind of ability, but still – to have materia in her possession made it so tempting to finally let out all that bottled energy, that potential. It was only a demo after all…

Her music began, and the girls encouraged her as she stepped through the curtains – the lights were green and yellow on her as she wandered through the smoke, hips forcedly swaying to accompany the heels, the panes of her dress floating around her in an ethereal cloud of translucent fabric and twinkling sequins. She was under the impression that her entire torso was cavernous and empty save for a bloody, quivering heart, her pulse was so heavy in her chest – she could hardly feel her legs as they swayed back and forth through the whorls of smoke. The crowd didn't even exist – she felt like she was on another planet entirely. And the song… it was a hypnotic rhythm, languorous and caressing, with slow piano arpeggios and a deep bass setting a rather mystical mood.

_Holy water cannot help you now; a thousand armies couldn't keep me out  
__I don't want your money, I don't want your crown  
__See, I've come to burn your kingdom down…_

She smiled to herself at the song choice – and then suddenly there was a gap in the smoke and a hundred faces appeared just as the soft female voice sang, _Seven devils all around you, seven devils in my house… _she felt her heartbeat accelerate into a delirious rhythm as she forced herself to turn around, to face them. She planted her staff next to her, unable to look up, trembling as she swayed a little on her heels. Her hair, scraped into a thousand tiny braids that were held together by little silver rings, tumbled over her shoulders and fell over her torso, coming to tickle her waist. The braids hid half of her face as she kept her chin resolutely down.

She wondered what they saw – for a moment she tried to visualize herself from their point of view, and she slowly looked up as if it would facilitate the effort. Her braids fell away from her face as she willed one leg forwards, and then the other; she walked down the tables, using the staff like a walking stick, hardly letting it touch the floor as she held it delicately in one jewelled hand.

She was looking straight ahead at the walls, thinking _I'm not going to fall, I'm not going to fall_, and such was her concentration that she would've stepped right off the last table if it hadn't been for the wolf-whistling that broke through her mantra.

She looked down at the crowd, so high up that she suddenly realized she was wearing a godamned skirt – of course she was, what a marvellous situation – but then she told herself the main attraction was supposed to be the weapon, so she brought it down violently next to her so that the crowd would be drawn to the noise rather than where her thighs lead.

_Seven devils all around you, seven devils in my house  
See I was dead when I woke up this morning,  
And I'll be dead before the day is done  
Before the day is done  
__Before the day is done…_

Violins suddenly took up an epic rhythm as the song reached its climax – she took advantage of the music to begin twirling the staff around her, slowly spinning on herself and closing her eyes to pretend she was in her church again, practicing in the fierce light of day that shone down through the roof. They weren't there. Nobody was staring at her.

_They can keep me alive  
'Till I tear the walls  
'Till I enslave your hearts...  
_

She was dancing, dancing for herself, dancing in the darkness of her closed eyelids, the make-believe nothingness allowing her to express what would've been impossible if she hadn't been pretending.

_And what has been done_, _cannot be undone  
In the evil's heart  
In the evil's soul.  
_

The bass dropped as the violins spelled out distress, and she lifted her chin, taking the staff in both hands above her head and feeling a strange energy surging through her veins, seemingly bursting out from the taut skin of her wrists and hands as she activated the materia.

It was fire – and though it was low-levelled, it made the entire staff tremble with the sunburst that exploded from its tip. The staff was made to be infused by the materia's magic, and Aeris suddenly realized that if she didn't control herself she could probably use the actual fire spell on somebody instead of just infusing the weapon with the materia's energy. She blinked in panic as the flaming halo surrounded her, enclosing her lithe figure in a transparent shell of undiluted energy. _Shit, shit, shit_ – she didn't know if this was actually – was the staff supposed to do that? _Oh, Gaia_. There were whistles and thunderous applause as she stood there, breathing hard and trying to hold back the shivering energy that poured from her veins into the materia. She'd never done this, never would've thought that an active materia would respond to her so powerfully – she'd only ever tried with what her mother had left her, which didn't have such flamboyant reciprocity.

She couldn't calm down, couldn't seem to unclench her jaw and fingers and what was she doing, what was she doing, she was going to betray herself – but then as she let the panic engulf her mind, the energy seemed to disperse as though troubled by her lack of concentration, and the halo withdrew into the staff so that there was nothing left but a sputtering of flame and a golden glow at the staff's tip.

The song ended, and the applause continued until the spokesmen were forced to ask for silence in order to explain the weapon's capacities and purposes of construction. She let herself breath for a bit, legs planted wide apart and staff held between her hands in a rather aggressive pose. It hadn't been that hard, after all, and she hadn't even tripped over, which could only be good. It wasn't over yet, of course, but the worst was done. Well. Hopefully.

She took advantage of the small pause to take a look at the audience. She could hardly see them through the glare of the projectors that lit up the corners of her eyes, as if her panic had leaked down into her eyes in burning white trickles. There were faces, and shouts, but she couldn't really distinguish what they were saying – the room wasn't overly large so a single sweep of the eye could take in its disposition. There were little groups here and there; she started as she glimpsed a mane of long white hair, half hidden by the little group of journalists who were crowding around its owner. It was – it was him! The legendary Soldier, the unattainable, as they all liked to call him… She didn't realize she'd been staring at him until he turned his head to return her gaze, as an observed person is wont to do instinctively.

Heartbeat tripling, Aeris took up her staff again and dropped into a few poses – she wobbled a little, biting back a cry, as she realized that people were stuffing bills in the straps of her shoes, her garters, her corset. Thankfully she was too high up for them to be able to stick their bills in her bosom, but still, she took it like an attack of sorts – automatically she stepped back and planted the staff down diagonally in front of her in a defensive pose.

"You a luxury whore or something, to refuse tips?" The men were laughing.

"Probably got a sense of nobility, this one."

Her fake lashes weighed on her eyelids as they fluttered in fright – she repressed the urge to rip them off, to rip everything off and run, _run_, out of this room, out of her skin. It was too much – there were too many eyes on her, and she was alone amidst so many dangerous men – what in Gaia's name had convinced her that this wouldn't be difficult? She could feel every sequin digging into her sweaty skin, ribs pushing against the corset as she fought to breathe. _Breathe, Aeris. It'll be over soon._

She tried to do as Gem had told her, imagining it was all just a simulation, but then as she tried to change her pose her eye caught the high blond ponytail of an impossibly attractive woman – the most surrounded person in the room. Red dress, fleshy lips and a ridiculous cleavage; it was Scarlet, the one who'd hired them, according to what the girls had told her. And she was looking up at her with cold curiosity in her eyes as she barked replies at the several men who were egging her about something. There was another man who was looking at her with the same strange intent as he spoke to Scarlet… red hair, red leather…

_Oh no._

_Oh no, no, no!_

She turned around in a wild attempt to hide her face from his scrutiny, back to the audience as she twirling the staff around and around her waist. What were they saying about her? Why were they angry? If they could only let her walk back to the other room, oh, _Gaia_, they were going to recognize her – they already had, it was obvious, it was inevitable, it had been all along. There were shouts as the bids started, and she turned around again, facing away from Scarlet the First Class she'd encountered at the bar. She continued posing until Scarlet clapped her hands to end the bidding, and she was free to walk back.

She sighed as she turned around, legs trembling in her heels. _That went well, didn't it._

_**•**_

Genesis had a funny look in his eye when Sephiroth decided to regain the tables.

"What's up with you?" the General asked him, a faint suspicion in his tone as his friend motioned for him to sit down next to him.

"Didn't you see her?"

"Which _her_ are you referring to?" Sephiroth drawled, "The broadsword, the M8 Mako Rifle, the whips? The whips were rather interesting, I agree."

"Clever, as always," Genesis groaned, "I was talking about that plain and uninteresting human female, you know, the one who can _wield materia._"

"Oh yes," Sephiroth shrugged, "Well, there are mechanisms that allow a normal human to bypass their biological incapacity - "

"Sephiroth," the redhead hissed, "You're not going to tell me you believe a simple mechanism can make materia react like that?"

Sephiroth sighed. "I don't know, Genesis. She's a prostitute after all."

"And?"

"Well, they spend their time _activating_ things, don't they? It must be some sort of energy flow they've gotten in touch with."

Genesis was laughing. "You're not very good at being implicit, General."

"The fact is, I really couldn't care less," the good General explained, "So unless you want Hojo to start getting excited, I'd shut up about it if I were you."

They'd started lounging around, sipping their glasses among the blathering ShinRa executives until Genesis perked up with a sudden, "Ah! Here they come," as he looked over at the door. Sephiroth followed his gaze, and inwardly shivered with reluctance as he saw the women pouring in.

"I thought you said they wouldn't be mingling?"

"I never said that. I said I wasn't sure, but that I very much hoped they would. Your brain must've subconsciously jumped to the most comfortable solution."

"Gaia," Sephiroth sighed, "I'm getting another drink."

"Get me one too in that case?" Genesis laughed as the man scraped his chair back.

"That's what I'm here for," Sephiroth said over his shoulder, "You little bastard."

"I love him to pieces," Genesis said to the environing heads – Scarlet scoffed as the men ignored him.

"He hardly deserves all he gets," she said, to which Genesis gave a deep, heartfelt nod.

"Indeed."

_**•**_

"So this is essentially the part where - "

"We get our customers," Harmony nodded.

"And our alcohol," Gem said, eagerly rubbing her hands together.

"Watch out for scams."

"And don't get drunk."

"And _don't_ come onto Sephiroth."

"Especially if you're drunk."

"And especially if Vale's aggravated him beforehand." There was a faint 'hey!' from down the corridor as the girls ran from their room to the conference room, each going in when they were properly ready.

"Ok, let's go." Harmony looked them both up and down, rolling her eyes at Gem before suddenly realizing that Aeris was much shorter than moments before. "Darling – where are your feet?"

"Right here," Aeris smiled, wiggling her bare toes.

"You're going to get trampled," Harmony cried, all maternal instinct and protectiveness as always.

"I think I'm going to get trampled in every sense of the word anyway. My feet aren't what bother me the most," the flowergirl said, "Come on then. I'm at your tail."

_**•**_

Genesis had his eye on the one who had opened the demonstration as soon as the girls had invaded the room. There were hardly twenty of them, but what with all that glitter and the fact that they were all practically taller than everyone it was impossible to ignore them. The girl of interest was all in black, corset cinching her waist rather painfully, hair up in a thick Mohawk that tumbled down her back to her waist.

Sephiroth would've teased him about his tastes which he found rather strange, had he been free of the obligatory conversation with Hojo, Hollander and the other head scientists who'd contributed to certain aspects of the weapons. One look from Hojo had summoned him to that end of the table, where the little group were all standing and talking animatedly among themselves.

He'd taken Genesis with him, giving him one of those looks that meant _This is not optional_, which Genesis had responded to with a look that meant _You already owe me too much_, not moving a single toe-hair's distance from where he stood. Sephiroth had then frowned to add that little _You have a duty of friendship towards me_ authoritarian quality to the glare, to which Genesis had sighed, tried a small pleading look that had been crushed immediately, and uncrossed his arms to follow his friend.

There ensued a long conversation on the art of combat and the psychology of Soldier, during which Sephiroth tried to suppress the familiar disgust that rose in his throat, and the discomfort that he felt whenever he was around this man. It was purely physical – Hojo only treated him once a month now, and every session was very formal, leaving nothing to be ashamed of. But he couldn't hold back the feeling, and it was visible; Genesis even went as far as dropping his ever-present mocking act to support the man as Hojo and Hollander drawled on.

This didn't escape the scrutiny of the milling women. Aeris had stuck close to Gem at first, who had gladly accepted to show her how it was done in this sort of pseudo-formal situation. The Soldiers and executives had watched, very much amused, as this human version of the Midgar Zolom went around with a barely budding flower stuck to her heel. Aeris hardly reached the other woman's bosom without her heels, and she was blaringly normal after the painted face and violently modified silhouette of her friend. But both of them, like the rest of the girls, kept stealing glances over at the VIP table as they encountered journalists, grunts, secretaries – not exactly a population of ShinRa underdogs, but enough to make them feel rather comfortable. Aeris couldn't help wincing and turning her face every time she saw a Second Class uniform. This was still a bad idea, however much money the girls insisted she would make.

"Chime, sweetie?" Gem looked down at her as they broke away from a group of young, curious grunts who were probably seeing their first courtesans. "How's it going so far?"

"Those guys were really rude," Aeris couldn't help saying, feeling rather defiled by how the grunts had been interested and how lightly they took her situation. Most of the customers she'd had down at the Inn had been respectful both physically and morally, knowing that it was a hard choice to make and respecting her for it. But them…

"I know," Gem said, "This is the Upper plate. There'll be far more idiots than understanding folk up here, you'd better get used to it." She looked around them as they leaned casually against a table. "Oh, bloody hell. There she goes again."

"What?" Aeris followed her friend's gaze, seeing several girls sitting around the VIP table and chatting with the executives, mostly flinging loud responses and laughing. But before she could see exactly who was who, they were accosted by a very handsome pair of men in black suits, one bald, one – oh, _shit._

"Hello, girls."

Aeris tried as hard as she could to cover her face with her braids, hoping Gem would overshadow her with that staggering presence of hers. She should've known the Turks would be lurking. _Ok, that's it. I am _never_ doing this again._

"Rude of the Turks," Gem said, intonation giving the man's name a regal quality. "I'm honoured."

"Surely you've heard of _us _rather than just him?" the long-haired, scraggly counterpart said.

"I'm not sure you two have met," Rude said with his impossibly low voice, "Gem, this is the dirt on my shoe, Reno. Reno, this is the most beautiful woman who'll ever willingly set eyes on you, Hegemony. You can thank me later."

"Glad to meet you, dirt." Gem smiled a sharp, pointy smile as she extended a hand to the offended redhead.

"And you, hooker." They shook hands. "No offence of course- " Reno added hastily, but Rude had already punched him in the side. "_Oof!"  
_

"None taken."

She must have sensed Aeris' withdrawal, because she thankfully didn't introduce her, and the Turks didn't express any particular interest either. With an inward sigh of relief, Aeris told herself she'd knock her friend over with kisses later.

While the three were talking she looked over at the VIP table again, and was immediately drawn to the huddle of white coats. It was kind of ironic to see such serious men being accosted by the most provocatively dressed women – they were the kind of men that normal girls usually overlooked, either out of intimidation or plain fear. There was a movement among the cloaks and her heart plummeted as she saw that – that face. Wide forehead, lanky black hair, glasses, a leering sort of expression… she knew that face. The last time she'd seen it must've been at least a century back, but it wasn't the sort of face you'd forget.

And right next to the deranged character, there was another one of those faces that have a physical impact on you – she almost winced again as her eyes accidentally brushed over the General's tall figure. He was staring at Hojo as the other man spoke, eyes heavy-lidded with what looked like boredom – arms crossed over a half-open shirt, he looked strangely reproachful as they all contributed to the conversation, some agitatedly, some looking like tired old philosophers. She tilted her head to the side absently as an arm appeared around his shoulders; his head twitched to the side as the girl leaned over to smile at him, sitting on the table upon which he was leaning.

Aeris couldn't repress a worried frown as she recalled everything the girls had said about him being a bit of an elitist when it came to social circles. Why were they still trying after so many failed attempts? Perhaps she hadn't spoken to those who had succeeded – but surely they would've told her about any success stories with such a rare prize as Sephiroth's attention.

_**•**_

"I know you."

The blonde smiled in delight. "I didn't think it was possible for us to stay in your memory for very long, let alone penetrate it."

"Memories are formed when an emotion taints the scene, or people involved," the General murmured in a ridiculously seductive tone, head bowed as he spoke to the women next to him. He hadn't even removed her arm, which was a true feat of patience.

"And what did you taint me with?" the blonde whispered.

"Anger," the General said, lifting a finger to trail its tip along the girl's jaw. "Intolerable amounts of it."

"I'm flattered that I can draw intolerable amounts of _anything_ from you," the blonde replied breathlessly, her smile widening just as Sephiroth's fingers locked around her jaw and slowly guided her chin up so that her mouth was at a hair's breadth from his.

"Well done," he spoke as her eyes angled on those shapely, unattainable lips, "You've just succeeded again. Now get the fuck out of my sight."

His fingers rudely jerked her face away from his, and he turned to pick up his drink with the same hand. When he looked at her again, sitting there all shocked, he cocked an eyebrow as he brought the glass up to his lips.

"A pleasure." He took a sip.

"Is he bullying her again? Let me at him – _let me at him - _"

A pair of broads erupted out of nowhere, stringing arms around the rejected girl's shoulders and standing around him so close that he almost choked on the cocktail of strong, musky perfumes.

"Lord General of my _cock_," one of the women spat as he sat there holding back bewildered laughter. "Just so you know, we're professionals. We're not here to be insulted. Just because you were born in a ShinRa-stamped test tube with a ShinRa stamped silver spoon in your fucking mouth doesn't mean you can blow us all off."

"Kat – stop it – _shut up – _"

"No, Vale, I won't have it. Every single time we accept to just stand and let this _wa- "_

_SLAP._

Another woman, who had been listening in on the scientists' discussion and nodding every now and then as if she actually understood, had stepped up and quite regally slapped the hell out of the offender, who was stumbling backwards. Sephiroth looked on, quite baffled by what he was apparently provoking – not that it was an unfamiliar scene, he just never got used to the ridiculousness that sprouted around feminine whims to get his attention.

"Get her out of here," the dominant woman ordered the other two, and they scrambled away with the offender squeezed between them. The remaining lady turned to Sephiroth and bowed down low, giving him both the respect he deserved and a wonderful, unobstructed view of her cleavage. He wondered which was really intended.

"Deepest apologies, sir." She straightened so that he could admire the serious demeanour of that remarkably handsome, oval face. "Won't happen again."

He recognized her, too… she was the one who had approached him last time. She'd been quite polite, unlike what he was used to. Not that that changed the fact that he'd been having a conversation – however repugnant the interlocutors, he preferred having Hojo up in his face than this horde of shameless, hormonally dysfunctional females.

The serious woman stepped aside to reform the conversational circle that had been somewhat disrupted by the commotion, and after suffering the amused stares of the scientists, Sephiroth grumbled into his liquor as the others forced the conversation along with a few words. As he looked up he noticed that Genesis had apparently deserted him – and thankfully so. The man certainly didn't need another motive to piss him off.

_**•**_

Genesis was coming towards them.

_Oh, Gaia. _Aeris couldn't remember the last time she'd taken a breath, trapped between the Turks who by some miracle were turning a blind eye to her presence, and the First Class who'd very probably recognized her already.

Aeris squeezed Gem's arm before slipping away towards a random grunt who was sitting by himself nearby. Hopefully if she could just act normal – act calm – nothing would happen, and she could go back down safe. She didn't even feel the pressure of having to capture someone's attention any more – she just fervently wanted this night to be _over_ already.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked the shy blonde with a smile as he looked up at her in surprise. He had those electric blue eyes that all Mako-enhanced Soldiers had, and she found them oddly soothing to behold as she sat on the table beside him.

"Oh, I - " the man stammered, "I don't – I mean, I don't have any money on me."

Strange, how such a simple and logical statement could hurt so much. "It's alright," Aeris told him, "I'm just looking for company."

The blonde stared at her as though afraid she might pounce on him, before sipping some of his liquor, grimacing as it went down.

"Too strong for you?" Aeris smiled. She was about to add how she didn't do alcohol either, but then the grunt took the opportunity to thrust the glass in her hands with a nervous grin before getting up.

"You can have it. I'll go get something else," he mumbled before shooting off. Tensing up at the sudden vulnerability of being alone, she didn't even register how rude he was as she heard that familiar drawl just behind her where Gem was still entertaining the Turks.

"_Ripples form on the water's surface… the wandering soul knows no rest_."

"Genesis." The name was a song on her lips. Aeris dared to turn a fraction to see how Gem was fairing with all that important company. Genesis was standing just beyond the Turks, who both stepped aside immediately to form a circle.

"Sir," they both said.

"Am I bothering you in your search for ordinariness?" Genesis smiled. He was staring at her like a drug addict stares at a Mako syringe – heavy lidded eyes, a nostalgic smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You are," Gem said, adopting a strangely haughty attitude.

He stepped forwards, and the two Turks glanced at each other before nodding at Gem and walking away.

"Hegemony," he murmured as he closed the distance between them. "You were cruel to abandon me like that."

"You know how it goes," Gem said, "Too much affection bores me, Genesis. So much money for so little innovation… I'd rather take my chances elsewhere."

Genesis lost his smile as she said this, though the look in his eyes gained in intensity. "Give me another chance to innovate. I swear I won't disappoint."

Gem lifted her chin – her mane of hair shimmered as she did so, expression seemingly taking the man's offer into consideration as if she had a dozen better offers against which to weigh his.

"How long are you going to take advantage of the system?" she said, "You should consider yourself lucky to have known me at all."

"It's been so long," Genesis insisted, "You've forgotten how good I can be to you."

"Perhaps I have," she retorted, "Perhaps it was nothing worth remembering."

Genesis stepped closer, casting a shadow over her as he gazed at her.

"_Dreams of the morrow hath the shattered soul,"_ he whispered, "Let me try again."

"It depends on what price you'd place on my patience," she said.

Aeris frowned as the man bowed, taking Gem's hand in his and pressing his lips against it like some fervent worshipper kisses a saint's fingers.

"You won't be disappointed," he said, looking up at her with something between malice and adoration in his gaze. She pulled her hand from his grip, hardly even looking down at him.

"Let me be the judge of that."

Aeris hadn't realized she'd turned her head a little more to have a better view of the strange exchange – Genesis suddenly looked straight at her, still bearing that heavily loaded gaze. She froze, pulse quickening as she forced herself to nod politely and turn away as fast as she could. Stupidly enough, she'd started calming down, thinking that Gem had successfully diverted everyone's attention from her, but clearly this man couldn't be fazed. She gulped down her alcohol as she heard him straighten in a light creak of leather. There were steps…it sounded like he was moving away. Yes, he couldn't be interested in her – clearly he was Gem's regular, so there was no point in him approaching her even if he had recognized her. Unless he wanted to scare her – but where was the profit in that? He wouldn't bother…

He was right in front of her before she knew it.

"_So,_" he said, smile widening so much that she thought he would uncover a third row of teeth. This was not good. "Have you gathered who I am yet?"

Oh, this was _definitely _not good. Aeris forced herself to return the smile. "Excuse me?"

"This is perfect," he said, still not losing that awful, predatory smile, "You know, at first I couldn't place you – but then you staged that excellent fire trick, and I have to say it was that frightened expression that made me recognize you." He stepped closer, and she couldn't even move back on the table; this had to be some kind of bad dream. This couldn't be happening. Not to her.

"Fear enhances the features so deliciously," he went on, "You're confirming it right now."

It was useless to keep on denying her identity, but she did so anyway. "I'm not sure we've met," she tried not to stammer, "But I've definitely heard of you before. You're Genesis, First Class Soldier, one of Sephiroth's closest friends." She'd deduced that from the gazes she'd seen them exchanging – she hoped it was true.

"And you're a very clever girl," Genesis said, "But there's no need to pretend. Does Zack know of your nightly occupations?"

She hadn't actually prepared an answer for that, much as she was afraid he'd ask her. If she said yes she'd be humiliating her friend, putting it out there that he didn't mind if his girlfriend saw other men for money… or maybe she could say that he was her regular? But Genesis would know that they didn't work during the day. She couldn't tell him the truth, that they weren't actually together, because then he'd ask why they'd bother to pretend, and telling him that Zack was doing the same job would humiliate him further – he might've said that Sephiroth didn't care what his Soldiers were up to after their shifts, but he was probably wrong. She should maybe think of another reason why they were pretending to be together, but her brain wasn't functioning properly right now.

There was one last option.

"No," she said as if she was admitting something huge – she was scared enough to make it credible, "Please don't tell him."

Genesis only widened his smile, as though he'd confirmed a personal deduction. "Second question," he said, "How is it that you can wield materia?"

"Wield materia?" She laughed nervously. "I don't know. I mean, I used the mechanism. I've never wielded materia before and – I thought it was impossible for anyone who hasn't had Mako treatment?"

"You may never have wielded it before," Genesis said, "But it certainly fed on you tonight. You have a strange affinity even if you're not conscious of your interaction with it. To be quite honest," he added, stepping closer and still feasting on her fearful expression, "I've never seen materia react like that with anyone other than Sephiroth himself."

She didn't know what to say. "I didn't feel anything," she insisted, "And comparing me to Sephiroth is ridiculous."

"Indeed it is," Genesis agreed with a laugh, "But I was simply stating a fact. Care to join me?"

She frowned at him as he offered her a leather-clad arm, head completely empty of anything else than the blaring red siren that had gone off as soon as he'd appeared in front of her. Seeing her reluctance, he cocked an eyebrow.

"Come on. It'll be fun."

"Actually I…" Her head was spinning. This couldn't be happening. "I'm feeling a bit queasy with the alcohol… I wouldn't be good company."

"Nonsense," Genesis said, "You've been splendid company so far." She looked at him, hoping her gaze would persuade him to – what? Be nice to her? "Come on, girl. You know better than to refuse."

There it was. The careless, offhanded but still very real threat – threat that didn't even mean anything to her since Zack already knew everything and more. But it was still strangely entangled with the fact that she didn't want the rumour spreading, didn't want to incriminate her friend, didn't want to be the first to break the other's trust. He'd somewhat broken her trust but it hadn't involved anyone else, it had hardly mattered even though she was still mad at him. It didn't matter as much as reputation. Nothing mattered as much as that in this city.

She took Genesis' arm, eyes downcast.

"There you go. That wasn't so hard, was it?"

_**•**_

Just when she thought her situation could hardly get any worse, Genesis had brought her over to the VIP table, where Hojo and Sephiroth stood. She'd given Gem a small glance as Genesis had offered her his other arm – the woman had responded with an anxious, questioning gaze, before falling into step with them. Gem had probably heard everything, but how could she have intervened when there was a net of lies covering everything they'd been talking about?

It was all such a mess. And it was definitely about to get messier.

"Now," Genesis was saying as they approached the white coats, "I'm going to give you a mission… Oh, hang on." He turned to Aeris. "I haven't even asked you your name."

Aeris stared up at him, trying to suppress the annoyance that his blatant provocations were arousing in her. Surely if Zack had told him about her, he'd know her real name. Bloody man. "Chimera," she mumbled.

"Charming," Genesis practically purred, enjoying the qui pro quo with giddy delight. "And if I may add, charmingly appropriate."

"I told you, I didn't wield that materia," Aeris insisted, out of her mind with confusion.

"Of course you didn't. Now listen," Genesis went on, "Don't say anything. Be shy. Keep your eyes down."

"What -?"

They'd come to the table where Sephiroth was sitting, much to Aeris' dismay – Genesis pulled his arms out of the two women's grips, motioning at Gem to go sit on the table next to Sephiroth. She complied with a deft roll of the eyes, and Genesis stepped up to wedge himself between her open thighs, his back against her chest.

Sephiroth being engaged in the discussion with the scientists, only glanced at his friend as he reappeared beside him. Aeris stood there dumbly, wondering what she was meant to do, and looking at Genesis with something akin to disdain beginning to cloud her mind.

"…the summons are still a controversial domain," Sephiroth was saying, "It's no longer a question of elements but of living creatures. Producing summoning materia is just about as criminal as reinstating slavery."

"We have no proof that the creatures summoned are in fact living beings, or elements taking on a form to better express their energy," a young scientist retorted. "Tracking the Bahamuts is impossible – and if you're going to claim that Odin is in fact a real man living in a palace in the clouds somewhere, I believe many will be sceptical."

"The magic of natural summoning materia is something you're still deciphering," Sephiroth said, "I'm not saying those creatures are living and breathing, mortal beings. My grief is with the artificial production of summoning materia. I just don't see how that could work unless you forcefully bind a living creature to the materia, since nobody controls what's legendary and mystical like the natural summons."

"It would be more a question of duplicating the existing summoning materia," Hojo stated in that oily voice, "As for creating entirely new summons, or trying to duplicate the magic that binds something legendary to a piece of materia without needing its consent, well, that's the challenge."

"That's what I meant," Sephiroth said, bringing his hands up, "How is it not slavery to bind something to you without its consent?"

Aeris looked at Genesis just as this was said – noticing her, Genesis smiled to himself without returning the gaze. She refrained from grumbling, absently warming up to Sephiroth for denouncing this.

"Perhaps they should try binding the great General to a summoning materia," Genesis piped up, "A legendary and mystical creature – willing to consent if the right sum is paid."

The scientists laughed at that – all except Hojo of course, who was looking at Sephiroth with a deranged intent etched in his eyes. Aeris inwardly shivered, feeling oddly protective of the General as she saw that despicable man looking at him with a gaze she'd known all too well.

"We don't all accept to sell our bodies for money, you know," Sephiroth replied with an amused glance at Genesis.

"We don't all have a choice," Gem said before her devotee could reply, and the General afforded her a quick glance.

"Women could be another binding option," Sephiroth said, "Legendary and mystical, willingly selling themselves if it means survival and martyrdom all in one."

"Do you have to be so blatantly sexist all the time?" Genesis sighed as that got an uneasy smattering of laughter as well.

One of the scientists reinstated the original discussion with a few words, and they were off again, talking about the morality of it all until Hojo had stamped out Sephiroth's opinion with a couple of irrefutable arguments, and the man crossed his arms over his chest to listen rather than contribute. After a few minutes he looked over his shoulder at the digital clock on the wall, and pushed away from the table he was leaning on to go towards the drink stand.

Aeris watched as several girls approached him, fawning over him and laughing whenever he replied to them as he made himself a cocktail with the bottles that covered the table. When he turned around they followed him, and he wasn't even bothering to reply to them any more as he came back to the group – Aeris could practically see the smoke lifting from his body as he barely kept his annoyance contained.

Genesis looked at her pointedly at that moment – she had come to lean against a nearby table as she waited for her role to become clear in this silly game. He nodded at her, and she nodded back at him uncertainly as the General came back to the table followed by three girls. He took his position next to Genesis with a heavy sigh of exasperation, looking straight ahead of himself as if he was afraid that setting his eyes on the girls would set loose the monster he'd been keeping locked up under his strained politeness.

"Sephiroth," Genesis muttered to him, "Maybe you should just stick one at your hip to dissuade the others. Nobody's approached me."

The General didn't even look in the girls' direction – he looked the other way, eyes falling inevitably on Aeris who still hadn't figured it out. She averted her gaze automatically, heart pounding, but then the man said, "You there." And she was forced to look up again, hardly able to hold such a naturally intense gaze as the General's as he stared at her. He jerked his head to the side as an invitation, and she went towards him awkwardly, still unable to shake off the feeling that this was a waking dream.

Oddly, the first thing he said when she was in front of him was, "Where are your shoes?" She looked down his pointy, polished leather shoes, no doubt the price of your average slum house, and then at her bare toes, wiggling them automatically before inwardly slapping herself back to attention – she was in front of the _General_ for Gaia's sake - he was actually acknowledging her existence, looking her up and down. Granted, he probably held the same opinion of her as he did the rest of the girls here, but still. She found herself being halfway between mindless panic and vain pride.

"Um," she stammered, smiling nervously, "I couldn't walk in them."

"Not surprising," he deadpanned, before taking her roughly by the arm and fitting her next to him. She thought she would crumble under the weight of the arm that he put around her shoulders, but then he was searching in his trouser pocket and taking out a wad of bills. Handing them to her, he looked down at her tiredly. "I'm paying you to sit down and shut up. Nothing more."

"Happy to oblige, sir." She smiled up at him, practically hysterical with misplaced amusement and happiness. He was completely rude but she could understand where he was coming from and – and it was _Sephiroth!_ The awed little girl inside her wanted to keep the bills like a souvenir of this moment, as well as a token from the world's most famous man alive; her lithe fingers trembled as she flicked through each bill, not even counting them, just feeling the texture. The vain bubble that had swelled up in her at being under the General's arm had practically erased the fear of Hojo being right there, a few steps away. When she next laid eyes on him she'd forgotten he was there – she instinctively retreated into Sephiroth's side, stammering an apology when he looked down at her. Strangely enough he had a smile at the corner of his lips.

"He can have that effect," he said in a rare conspiratorial tone, "Don't worry though, as long as you're not an abomination of nature, he won't be interested in you."

She nodded, remembering his express order to shut up, and smiled to herself at how strangely nice he was being. She was briefly reminded of Harmony clinging to her idea of his politeness when he was still a bastard, and finally understood how easy it was to accept the man's rudeness when you had actually held a bit of his attention.

Gem was openly staring at her, and she waited until Sephiroth had rejoined the conversation with the scientists to look over at her, leaning back a little so that she could see her beyond that mane of white hair that was progressively sticking to her arm with the static. The girl had her arms out behind her on the table to support her weight, giving her a casual air, but the look she gave Aeris was full of urgent warnings and anxiety, with pride mingled in there somewhere. Aeris responded with a light shrug, raising her eyebrows to imply that she didn't know what was going on. Gem mouthed, _Money? _so she shook her head to negate any notion of sex_. _But Gem smiled at her anyway in that doggish way of hers, before lifting a hand to give her a discreet thumbs-up; rolling her eyes, Aeris looked away again, only to realize that many of the girls were shooting glances at her more often than not, most of which had customers which made it a bit awkward. She certainly wasn't looking forwards to the debriefing she'd have to do once below the plate again.

_**•**_

The comment about Hojo had been the last thing he'd said to her. Sephiroth had brought her with him like a silent mascot during the whole night, successfully repelling all other women who were obliged to give Aeris her chance and not obstruct her. She felt like the entire left side of her body was burning with reminiscence of his touch – arm around the shoulders, around the waist, hand on the arm, the forearm, even clutching hers impersonally as he tugged her with him – she was thinking about how she'd never wash that blessed left side of herself again as he walked up to Genesis after having spoken to countless officials.

"Shall we go?"

Her insides plummeted. She'd seen the girls progressively leaving, each with a customer, each planning to spend the night on the upper plate before leaving for the Inn as a group the next morning. She should've known… should've planned things a little better-

"Believe me, I've been wanting to leave ever since I laid eyes on her," Genesis grinned as he nodded in Gem's direction – she was fixing herself a drink, talking to a few of the remaining girls.

"The Zolom?" Sephiroth sighed, "You know, I'd really hate it if you turned up in the morning paper one day with your head bitten off."

"You wouldn't hate it. You'd laugh your arse off," Genesis grinned, "She's harmless enough though. Physically, I mean."

"Okay then, instead of headless you'll be somewhere in an asylum," Sephiroth said, "As you should be."

"You know, that would be interesting. You can go, I'll just wait for her. Catch up later if you like."

"Alright." Aeris had been staring at them without listening, sorting through the possibilities – she only had one option at this time of night, which was to take the train back. And very probably alone, which was hardly good.

She started as Sephiroth looked down at her, before turning to her and looming over her small frame - his scent clouded around her and the world seemed to melt away as he pinned her there with a mere gaze.

"Thank you," he said, "I suppose you'll be leaving with the others?"

"Um…" She hesitated to tell him – he didn't really need to know, and he'd probably just think she was pushing it or making it up to spend more time with him. But, she couldn't really lie since there was practically no one left, and Genesis probably knew how it went. She looked at her bare feet to suggest that she wasn't trying anything by stating the truth. "We were expected to leave with customers, and then regroup tomorrow to travel back down safely. But those without customers just take the night train, I guess, so I'll be going to the station."

"Are you serious?" Sephiroth said, "Your boss actually expects you to return safely on the Midgar night train? Does he know how dangerous it is?" It was less genuine compassion than a statement on how incompetent their whole system was.

"I don't know," Aeris stammered, "I mean… I'm supposing that's what girls do. Maybe I could find a hotel somewhere with the money you paid me."

"What do you mean, you're supposing?" Sephiroth touched a finger to her chin to make her look up – he had an oddly concerned expression. Or maybe it was just confusion at the fact that a host that had suited him so well was actually new at this. "This is your first time on the plate, isn't it?"

"No," Aeris said, "Not my first time. But I've never been up here at night."

Sephiroth sighed, and she felt obliged to add, "However dangerous it is, I know how to take care of myself. And you've given me more than enough for a hotel. I don't need help." She had been about to say 'Don't worry about me' but he clearly wouldn't be worrying about a hooker. It had been enough of a miracle to spend the night at his side, however silently it had been.

"Don't be stupid," Sephiroth admonished her, and his severe tone almost made her wince. "You'll get picked up straight away if you go out on your own. I'll get you to a hotel."

"Are you _serious?_" Genesis cried indignantly, both Sephiroth and Aeris snapping their heads around in a reflex. "You are decidedly the most tactless man I have ever met. Your flat is the size of an entire floor of the ShinRa Headquarters – give the girl some credit."

"Genesis," Sephiroth said between clenched teeth, "This is none of your business."

"Goddess, look at her!" Genesis put out an arm. "She's just a girl! Even I'd offer her some room in my flat if I wasn't busy tonight."

Sephiroth's shoulders were all tensed up as he glared at his friend. "Are you done making me look like a complete disrespectful idiot?" he growled, before turning back to Aeris, who was holding her breath. "Look, what do you prefer?"

"Oh, she prefers spending all her hard-earned money on a hotel, of course," Genesis ranted, to which Sephiroth barked at him to shut up before turning to Aeris again.

"Um…" She couldn't even think, she was so bewildered at his proposition. She had started imagining what it would be like as soon as Genesis had spoken about the man's flat – an Upper world flat … Zack only had shoddy Second Class quarters, since he said he didn't want to waste money on a rent somewhere when he had sleeping quarters for free at the HQ. Not to mention, he didn't really spend his nights there anyway. But, to sleep in the General's personal flat… she was giddy as a little girl, just thinking about it. "You shouldn't be asking me what I prefer," she said hesitantly as she looked up at him again, crushed in the presence of such a violentl handsome figure. "I won't accept to something that makes you feel uncomfortable."

"Well, I'm not uncomfortable with it," Sephiroth said as though the whole affair bored him, "Get your things and we'll get going."

"Is this true? Is this really happening?" Genesis cried as Aeris started towards the door, having to brush past him. She stared at him as she passed – despite his hysterical act, he still had that no-good calculating look about him. He actually winked at her just before she turned away – she frowned up at him quizzically. There was no way she would believe that he wasn't doing all this for some strange personal reason. "I believe you'll be the first woman ever to set eyes on Sephiroth's interior. This is history in the making!"

"Genesis, for the last time… shut up."

_**• • •**_


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's notes: God, I must have about 10 different versions of this chapter. My "Scraps" document is getting immoderately long for this story! Anyway, I hope you like it. The plot will start rapidly unravelling in the next chapter. I wanted to use this one for sex, but, I took out the scene in question since I reckon you don't know Hegemony well enough to enjoy a scene between Genesis and her... but if you guys are frustrated by the lack of smut, by all means tell me and I'll put it in. :D_

_Hugs to Fern, Kat, Medusalynn and SOA!_  
_Fern - you're probably going to be disappointed, haha! Sephiroth tends to consider sex workers as kind of inhuman, at least at the moment, so to stay true to this character trait I couldn't really indulge in writing much conversation. At least not yet. ;) You have no idea how frustrating it is for me to decline a good opportunity for dialogue! I actually have a dialogue in my Scraps - that's how frustrated I am. Will be including it later of course._

_Music: Rubinstein's Chopin, Mantras in Motion, Sui Generis Umbra._

* * *

_**Border of Taboo**_

**5**

_**• • •**_

There's something disturbingly endearing about her.

I watch her as the elevator doors slide shut, eclipsing her small figure from my view. She looks as strained as a lamb in a slaughterhouse trying not to acknowledge the scent of blood – something about the fear in her face is simply so _delicious_ to me. And that goes without even needing to mention how absurdly appropriate I find her current situation. It makes it almost too easy to manipulate her. She's like a rosy-red straight flush tumbling between my fingers, a satiny stroke of luck.

"Why are you so interested in her?" Hegemony follows me through the door to my apartment; Sephiroth lives at the very top of the building in the most spacious flats, whilst I am content with a smaller but infinitely livelier place. The walls are a deep blood red, and I've hardly shut the front door that I'm already pinning her to one of them. She smells of musk, leather and sex – and she's mine, mine, _mine_. The flowergirl slips my mind as I let myself get caught by that face, that scent, that shameless lust.

_You should be ashamed to keep your attentions only for paid women. _

My head's spinning already as I lean in to ravage her.

_You should be ashamed for thinking that free will is so important._

"Genesis," comes a seemingly disembodied voice, half disdain, half desire - and soon enough her lips are open under mine, moist and yielding.

_Free will no longer exists.  
_

She's sighing as I follow the familiar curves with my hands, furrowing into the snow white skin of her throat and feeling it melt on my tongue, wondrously icy, and bitter with perfume. _  
_

_Are you sure it ever really existed?  
_

She pushes me away, taking hold of my pauldron straps and slamming me against the opposing wall, red against red. Heavily outlined eyes bear into mine and I must be turning blue from breathless anticipation.

"Tell me," she whispers as a thigh buries itself between my legs, pressing, _pressing_, and I slide my fingers into her soft black hair, turning my face into her perfumed neck as I bite back a groan. We used to have this game – a game of ropes and knives and mindless begging – but I've forgotten which role is mine, and it's been so long that I no longer care.

"Take me," I beg her, and she presses harder- almost painfully.

"Tell me first."

I've forgotten the question. Was there some sort of reality outside the blazing humidity of her mouth? It must've been drab if it melts away so thoroughly upon the slightest encouragement.

"Tell me," she insists.

"Tell you what?"

"Chimera," she says, "Why does she interest you?"

"She doesn't."

"Liar."

Her reticence is starting to make my blood boil as she evades my kisses, waiting for me to answer.

"How can you insist on my having adulterous thoughts, when it's been _three weeks?_" I tell her, trying to pull her against me with my hand on the small of her back. "Three entire weeks that I've stayed chaste for you."

"Well I haven't stayed chaste for _you_."

She's playing still. Always playing when she's with me, even when I'm not asking her to.

"You were only doing your job."

"You think obligations can't be enjoyed?"

She's good at this. But she still can't recognize the moments when I don't want to be confronted with that lip of hers. "I think all obligations that don't include me shouldn't be enjoyed. No," I murmur against the soft strands that underline her cheekbones, "Anything that I haven't personally paid for, shouldn't be enjoyed. I forbid you."

"You've got a gigantic debt then, if you want to go down _that_ road."

"What about your debt?" I growl.

"Which debt?"

"_This one_." I pull her hand down between my legs, and she grins in acknowledgement. "You shouldn't be smiling," I add, "I'm going to ravage you tonight."

"Oh?" I can hear the tremor in her voice, in that single syllable – she's always afraid when she's with me, just exceptionally good at hiding it. And thankfully so; the cracks in her indifference let shine something that I so readily want to consume that I'm already trembling. I've got to give her a chance, though.  
I slide an open palm down the front of her corset, and send a wave of Berserk through her chest. As she feels the purely hormonal surge of anger coursing through her veins she looks confused – and then she realizes the source of the anger, and she looks at me with something half between lust and fury in those black eyes.

"Oh, you _never_."

•

Aeris turned and turned in her host's spacious king-sized bed, unable to find sleep while wrapped up in all that soft cotton that smelt so strongly of its owner – her legs got lost in the silver fox furs that were draped over the bed sheets, hairless white limbs shivering in the midst of such heavenly contact.  
He'd offered her tea, but she'd already been nodding off in the elevator – being as tense as a bowstring for the entire evening had completely knocked her out, and seeing as there was no longer the imminent threat of being kidnapped by the worst of ShinRa, or having to take the night train alone, or any of that, she could finally afford to relax. Then again it was entirely possible that _he_ was the worst of ShinRa, but his fantastic bed somewhat made up for that.

There was still the same recording of Nocturnes playing that he'd put on upon entering the flat as he took care of his files or whatever he had to do in the living room. The tinkling cascade of notes, sometimes moody, sometimes joyfully _staccato_, seeped in through the slightly open bedroom door, lulling her into a half-conscious state of utter sensory bliss – furs around her skin, melancholy melodies in her ears, and an ungodly scent of manliness that was just _fabulous_… and… she didn't have to wait for him, he'd probably sleep in the couch like the good gentleman that he was and… yes.

A slightly agitated moment in the music jarred her from doziness to a slightly more conscious state of mind, and she had enough grasp on the waking world to notice that she was no longer alone in the master bedroom. She tried to follow the movements with half-open eyes; a shaft of light from the living room fell on Sephiroth's figure as he moved as silently as a cat around the bed. She felt the mattress sink slightly as he sat on the opposite edge, and when he bent over to unlace his boots, she groggily noted that she could suddenly see the definition of the muscles in his back, following the crag that marked his spine, straining over his ribs to accompany the movements of his arms, shoulder-blades shifting like daggers under the skin…  
The notion of his sudden shirtlessness didn't even occur to her as she lay there in a daze. He straightened up, white mane sweeping down to cover the naked expanse of his back, and he seemed to be listening to one of the more plaintive Nocturnes as he sat motionless, head slightly tilted to the side. Then as the notes trailed off, he stood up again, stretching up and almost scraping the ceiling with his fingers.  
Aeris was suddenly aware of the fact that she might not be sleeping alone after all. More out of dozy reluctance to share this wonderful space with anyone than out of real modesty, she let out;

"Weren't you going to sleep on the couch?"

Sephiroth turned towards her so abruptly that she could only assume she'd surprised him.

"Did I wake you?" he asked in that quiet voice adopted by the tired, non-judgemental person about to abandon the conscious world.

"No," Aeris sighed, "I was never really asleep."

"I'm surprised; that bed can cure even the worst insomniac."

She smiled, snuggling into the furs again. "I don't doubt that."

"Speaking of which," Sephiroth added, "If you think I'd rather sleep in the couch than bother your saintly sleep, think again. I wouldn't give up sleeping in this bed even if Scarlet was my partner."

"Oh…" She felt somewhat flattered that he was saying she was somehow _better _than that absurdly attractive woman. But there was something jerking in her chest; after a minute she realized what she was uncomfortable with. "I'm – I'm not exactly decent under here."

"There's nothing indecent about the human body," Sephiroth retorted, "Besides, you're used to sleeping as Eve, aren't you?"

"I don't usuallysleep with my clients," she rectified. "But whatever the situation I always keep something on."

"Well, I don't," the General said simply, before chucking back his side of the covers and sliding in. Aeris froze as she heard this – the General himself, in the nude, right next to her! What – why - instinctively she shifted to the very edge of the bed, trying to stay as further as possible from him so as not to inconvenience him if they came into contact by accident.

He gave an unselfconscious groan of satisfaction as the furs embraced his body, and as he allowed himself more and more space he realized he was almost taking up the entire bed – she felt the mattress sink again as he heaved himself up onto one elbow to look at her.

"Chimera."

"What?"

"You're balancing on two inches of mattress over there."

"I – I don't want to – bother you."

She could hear the smirk in his voice when he said, "I never thought prostitutes could be so prude."

"I'm not being _prude_," she said, offended as always by that word. "I'm being polite."

He sighed, before slumping down onto his back again, both hands cradling his head. "Well, suit yourself then."

• • •

The crowd of prostitutes and escorts seemed to be scaring everyone away from the station. All of them were in jeans and big jumpers or overcoats, but apparently men had a flair for women of those professions and were staring at them as though they'd spurted out from a crack in the ground, demons having escaped their hellhole. And the metaphor wasn't entirely lost on them, since they were literally waiting for the train that would take them back underground.

Hegemony was having a hard time looking quite as normal as the others with her shaved skull and naturally tall, slim stature. She'd broken away from the main group and was waiting at the gate; when she saw the slight figure slipping out of a cab she strode out to meet her friend, heels knocking boldly against the pavement.  
Aeris was only half-conscious of her own body as Hegemony gathered her up in a bone-crushing hug, crying out in relief about her being alive. She felt so far away from the physical world that it had taken a huge effort to get up at the right time this morning. Even Hegemony was taken aback by the haggard expression on her friend's face; but nothing would deter her apparent determination at worming every single detail of the night out of the girl's mouth.

"I can't even begin to explain how _wrong_ it is for you to look like that when you've just had the biggest stroke of luck ever," Gem was saying, "I mean, nobody gets that close. _Nobody._"

Aeris could only smile faintly, so Gem frowned – but it was more fascination than worry. "Was he really that rough? Did he last all night or something?"

"Gem – we didn't - "

"Don't you _dare_ tell me you had a cup of tea and played cards!" Gem teased her, to which Aeris only smiled tiredly. Gem considered her friend a little more seriously then, taking in the lilac half-moons under those strangely dim eyes, and the cracked pallor of her lips.

"We didn't have tea," Aeris said, "He offered, but I was far too tired, and seeing as he'd paid me to shut up all evening it wouldn't have been logical for him to suddenly want to sit down and have a nice chat."

Gem laughed at that. "Is it possible to have such a thing as a _nice chat_ with that man?"

"You shouldn't be so quick to judge," Aeris started automatically.

"Neither should you," Gem countered her, but then she smiled one of her insolent, lopsided smiles. "Then again seeing as you've had much more one-on-one time with him, you're a better authority than me."

"One-on-one time," Aeris echoed, laughing at how ridiculous it sounded to sum up her evening like that.

"So did it get literal, or not?"

"_No_, and stop insisting," the former flowergirl pleaded, her gaze wandering over to the gate as the train whistled its way in – when she saw the twenty-odd girls milling around and shooting curious glances at her, she blanched a little. "Oh, Gaia."

"Don't worry, I'm the only one who's going to annoy you with questions," Gem assured her, snaking a reassuring arm around her shoulders. "We're taking the next train down."

It was then that she remembered owing her friend an amount of about 24 hours of profuse shows of gratitude for the evening they'd passed – she hugged the woman around her waist, mumbling her _thank you_ against the comfortable bosom where her face had just disappeared.

Gem laughed. "Of course, the catch for all this generosity is that _you_ have to tell me everything."

•

Gem let her friend sleep against her shoulder on the way down to Sector 6; once arrived at the station they made their way to the Loveless, Aeris trudging along with a knuckle constantly rising to rub her eyes. Only once they were seated at a comfy booth with tooth-achingly sweet liquor in their hands did Aeris tell her tale.

"There isn't much to tell, really," she said, throat burning with the liquor. "Something really strange just happened during the night. He joined me pretty soon after I'd gone to bed - "

"Pyjamas or no pyjamas?" Gem interrupted with a toothy grin – both of them were assaulted by mental images of Sephiroth in baggy, milk-stained PJs, and even Aeris couldn't resist laughing.

"No pyjamas," she assured her. But it was only then that she'd realized it had been a trap.

"In the nude then! I knew it!" It was almost a shriek of pure glee – the barmaid and several other regulars turned to glare at them. Gem didn't seem to care though, because she ploughed on; "The only thing I can't quite get my head around is how it didn't all spiral down from there."

"Look, he was clearly not interested in me at all," Aeris tried to explain, "And if you'd been in that bed- "

"Are you sure you want to go there?" Gem grinned.

"The emphasis is on the _bed_, not on the prospects of you coming to ruin the peace," Aeris grinned back, remembering the sensation of that undoubtedly expensive fur. "It had _silver fox fur_ on it. Honestly, I don't think even sex can keep you from enjoying that."

"Oh, I think I know someone who would beg to differ," Gem said, kohl eyebrows arching up.

"Speaking of which, how was your night?"

"No, no, no – we're focussing on _you_ right now. Let's have it."

Aeris took a sip of her almond liquor, ice cubes clinking in her glass as she set it down before beginning.

"Well, it was really difficult to go to sleep since he was taking up all the space and – well, you have someone like _that_ sprawled out next to you completely naked, it's kind of impossible to concentrate on sleep. Plus he apparently needs music in order to really relax so we were awake, side by side in all that fur, listening to piano pieces for at least half an hour before he had the decency to ask me if I wanted him to turn it off.

"So I said, 'Well, if it helps you sleep I don't mind if you keep it on,' but he apparently guessed my real opinion through the words since after a few more minutes he said, 'Music off'. The music died down, and then all I could hear was him breathing, the light from the window bordering the furs as they heaved up and down with his chest. His body heat spread so much that I ended up throwing half the covers off me, it was so hot under there.

"I was going to sleep, gaining a bit more territory as I turned and shifted. I have to say – his hair gets _everywhere_. After a while I couldn't even tell what was hair and what was fur; in any case I think he must put perfume in it because the scent was starting to make me feel a bit queasy. I'd just been drifting off but, I don't know if it was the smell, but I really started to feel a bit sick – I sat up, trying to analyse what was causing it. He was lying on the side facing me, clearly asleep since his mouth was slightly parted and he was breathing these long, steady breaths. The light made his skin glow and gave his hair a bluish taint – it was a sight to see, such a dangerous man just lying there next to you, trusting you enough to sleep. But the deeper his sleep became, the sicker I felt – it was so strange, something between nausea and asthma, and there was clearly something wrong with my lungs so I got up. It felt like fear, except there was nothing to be frightened of."

That had been a lie, but Gem wouldn't understand the truth of it. If she started explaining that she'd heard those familiar voices, telling her to run, run, _run_, then Gem would just think she'd had some kind of breakdown after such a nerve-racking evening. She was used to lying in order to cover up what others would see as blatant schizophrenia, so she continued without pausing.

"I went to the living room, trying to make as little noise as possible. I opened one of the windows and tried to breathe, but it seemed like my lungs were actually closing up- " The voices had been screaming then, and her heart had never pounded as fast as it did with mindless fear. "- so I panicked. I couldn't breathe, and the panic seemed to make things worse – I actually fell on my knees with my hands on my throat, and there were tears streaming down my face as I tried to breathe. I must've been making a bit of noise since Sephiroth appeared at my side a moment later, crouching next to me, and I didn't even notice what he was doing as he locked me to him with an arm around my shoulders, pried my hands from my throat, and put a hand on the bare skin just above my bosom.

'It's a panic attack,' he told me, 'Just a panic attack.'

"Then this powerful _wave_ of energy went right through me, the origin being his palm. My lungs seemed to open up, and I sucked in air like a drowning person breaking surface. I was still panicked about the sensation and how it had practically felt like dying; I was kneeling with my arms hugging my chest, like this, so he stood up again to give me space.

'Well, that's certainly not the first time a girl has broken down in my presence,' he said in his usual smug voice, 'But I thought you had a bit of a stronger will than what I'm used to.'

'I'm not afraid of you,' I managed to say, and I turned away because I couldn't get rid of the burn in my throat and I had tears welling up.

'You're awfully bold,' he said, but there wasn't really much of a threat in his voice. He just sounded tired; and understandably so, since it was around 2am. I started to apologize, but he interrupted me, saying;

'I know, you didn't want to bother me. You're the polite whore, and I'm the kind General.' He said it as if he knew it hurt me to call me whore, but expected me to suck it up because that's what I am. Kind of like people calling him General – or kind - insulted him just as much, but he had gotten used to it. It was a bit odd.

"He gave me the materia he'd used, which he calls _esuna_, if I ever had another attack while sleeping next to him. I took it and made to follow him back to the bedroom; and after a little silence he stated with a somewhat amused voice,

'So you're not even going to deny that you know how to wield materia?'

"I was taken aback by his astuteness. Remembering that Genesis had compared my raw skill to him, I decided it would be useless to say I'd only used the device since they could probably tell the difference. So all I said was, 'Well – I mean, you saw me on the stage, right?'

'Yes, I did,' he remarked. 'If it was intentional, it was unbelievably sloppy. Especially with Hojo in the room. Like I told you, it's better to keep your gifts to yourself around that man.'

'I'll remember that,' I said. Then we got to the bedroom.

"He watched me get into the bed before getting in himself, and I felt a bit uncomfortable in that flimsy, practically transparent nightie of mine. I covered myself up in the furs, turning on the side so that I couldn't see him standing there in the corner of my eye.

'Still not going to explain?' he said, with that same tone of amusement.

'Are you really that interested?' I retorted, 'I'm only a whore, remember.' Ok, so I was a _little_ bit stung about his comment, and the fact that he wasn't even trying to comfort me. I know I shouldn't have expectations or anything, but still. It was the least he could've done."

"You definitely have way too many expectations," Gem put in. Aeris smiled before continuing.

"Maybe. Anyway, he laughed the world's smallest laugh – more like a sharp exhale, really – before shedding the trousers he'd slipped on before coming to my rescue, probably so that he wouldn't have contributed to my attack through nakedness. When we were both back to back, he asked me to remind him how this morning was supposed to go; I told him the details. He told me not to wake him up again, and to take care of myself even if I had to go spit fire in the living room, and that was that. He was still in bed when I left him this morning."

Gem sat back as Aeris finished her liquor, her mouth dry after reciting the evening's events. The black-eyed woman seemed sceptic.

"So you have no idea what caused the panic attack?"

"No." She was really getting good at lying. But she'd definitely have to analyse why the voices had been so aggressive that time. The only other times she'd had that sensation of viscerally _needing_ to escape were when the Turks came after her, or when Hojo was near.

"And you kept the materia?"

Aeris' negation got lost in her glass as she swallowed the last golden drops.

"_Why not_?" Esuna was a rare thing down in the slums; the best medicinal materia they had was the most basic of Cures, and they weren't all that potent. Gem was probably thinking about how much they'd fetch by selling it if Aeris had brought it down; the real worth of the materia, in Aeris' mind, would've become apparent if she'd put it to good use down here in the slum hospitals.

Aeris put down her glass, and stared her friend in the eye. "He gave me _a thousand Gil_, Gem. A thousand Gil for nothing at all, and a troubled sleep! Would you really want to steal from the guy after that?"

"That's a decent amount, yeah," Gem agreed, but not without a snarky grin; "I'm not saying I make five times that amount per month, but, it's pretty good for a first time up on the Plate."

"Hegemony," Aeris chastised, returning her smile, "Do I even need to say it?"

"Yeah, yeah, I have a regular, lucky old me. Still," Gem said, "Putting aside the attack, that has got to be the dullest night anyone could ever imagine. The girls are going to be devastated."

"I think I'll just stop at the point where I get in bed with him stark naked, and leave them all guessing," Aeris tried to joke, and Gem indulged her with a laugh.

"That'd probably be best."

• • •

"Now, swallow."

Aeris tried to, but the smoke burned her throat so badly that she coughed it all up, hugging her belly as her entire torso jerked. Zack laughed, taking the cigarette from her, fingers pinching the carved-ivory cigarette holder. They were sitting on her bed at the Bee, facing one another.

"If you're going to be attending rich parties, you've got to know the _basics_ of elegance."

"I still don't see why I have to smoke," Aeris wheezed, "It's disgusting!"

"The visual side of it is far from disgusting. It's a ritual," Zack smiled, always happy to act the mentor. "Just like with tea, and absinthe, and opium, and…"

"Why can't I just stick to tea?" Aeris interrupted, and her spiky-haired friend laughed.

"Versatility isn't only limited to sex," he reminded her, and she rolled her eyes.

"So what about syringes and lines?" the flowergirl railed with a certain dread about her. "You're not going to tell me _that's_ elegant."

"Definitely not," Zack agreed, "The goal is to stay ladylike, not to go snorting and stabbing."

Aeris finally afforded him a smile. "What would I do if I didn't have _you_ to teach me how to be a lady?"

"Oi," he mock-reprimanded her, "No making fun of the teacher." He handed her the cigarette, and grinned at her expression of utter horror. "Again!"

Zack had gotten over the initial shock of knowing his little flowergirl had turned the General's head; upon hearing that he'd only required her presence to scare the others off, and hadn't even touched a single hair on her head, he'd reverted to his old light-hearted self. Which meant he couldn't resist visiting her all the time – so his excuse had been mentorship. He watched as she let the flesh of her lips stick to the ivory; the glistening red peeled away as she finished inhaling, and there was a slight bump in her throat as she swallowed the smoke. Then, she held her breath a bit too long – her lips parted calmly enough to let the smoke escape, but then a moment later she'd doubled over with coughs again.

"You were there!" Zack laughed, patting her back. He was about to give her more advice but he was interrupted by the bell on the wall, calling Aeris to attention.

"I've got to go," she said, her eyes still squinting through the pain as she handed him the fag, kissed him on the cheek and got up all in one movement. She was out of the door before he could even open his mouth - but there was a pleasant wetness on his cheek, so he was content to smile to himself and finish smoking, cross-legged on her bed.

Aeris made her way out and down the corridor towards the office. She encountered Gem on her way down the stairs – apparently they'd been summoned together. A sentiment of foreboding clunked into her stomach as she noticed this; if it was only the two of them, who else would it be other than Genesis?  
Her friend grinned – they'd had the same thought. "Got your pepper spray?"

"Does it even affect the First Class?"

"I have no idea," Gem laughed, linking her arm as they came to the office door. "Guess we'll just have to find out."  
Boss stood up as they came in. He winked at Aeris – he'd put on a blatant show of favouritism since the success of Scarlet's party, giving her flowers all week and always having a smile ready when she checked in. Gem only rolled her eyes, putting her hands on her hips.

"So what's up?" she said.

"The President's son is having a grand party for his birthday. It involves gambling, mostly in the form of card games and the like. It seems your regular, Hegemony, is hiring both of you to act as beautiful distractions."

"Both of us?" she snorted, as if the idea was just silly, "He's starting to be greedy, isn't he?"

"I believe he's hiring our Chimera for his illustrious friend, who'll also be attending."

"Oh..." Aeris blanched a little. It had been difficult enough to get over the first encounter with that man – but a second night of being intimidated and ridiculed, all for the obscure pleasure of that master manipulator, didn't really sound very good to her.

As if reading her thoughts, Boss gave her the incentive she was looking for;

"Three thousand Gil for the night. Each."

"What?" Gem exploded, "Is he planning to have us both afterwards?"

"No, the three thousand is for the evening. It's up to you to set the price if he brings either of you home afterwards."

Both the Boss and Aeris were looking at her with a queer glimmer in their eyes, as if they'd interpreted her attitude as plain jealousy that her regular would deign consider someone else to add to his sex life. As if to dispel the impression, she shook out her mane and said, "I thought so. When is it?"

"Tomorrow night. Just to forward things a little, I've had the audacity of buying you a little something," Boss added, giving Aeris a smile. Gem looked on with wide eyes as the man took up a freshly pressed garment from the back of his seat; it was a lilac dress, sleeveless and practically transparent but for the incorporated corset where silver brocade covered the entire chest down to the crotch. The light material hung from the hips down in long, fluttering panels. There were strings of silver beads and coins at every parting, so there would be a tinkle of metal whenever the legs peaked out.

"Oh, you shouldn't have," Gem said with an ironic grin, as Aeris went from white to red in a millisecond.

"Quit nagging, it's not your style anyway," Boss reprimanded, handing the dress to Aeris who couldn't take her eyes off it. "I bought it with my share of your allowance, so that perhaps you might continue to entice your new client as efficiently."

"I- I - " She'd told him what had happened in brief terms, and apparently he was even more eager than his workers to see her make an even more outrageous breakthrough with the man. When would they understand that it was just impossible to - ? Aeris sighed, hugging the dress against her. She'd just have to give it her best – and at any rate, it was Genesis paying this time. Whatever _he_ was up to.

"Tomorrow night, girls. I expect success."

• • •


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's notes: Ok, so if any of you have any knowledge of real-world military organisation, then this chapter is going to sound strange. Keep in mind that this is the FF7 universe and that the military ranking system is completely different (do tell me if what I write sounds illogical to you though :D). Also, there are a few poker terms in this chapter so you might want to brush up on those (call/raise/big and small blinds/fold).  
Hugs to HanPolo, HazzaTL3, epic-watermelon-bunny, Guest, Erin and Soluzek for the wonderful reviews! (Honestly, where do you guys think up of those names? They're just insane, especially the watermelon bunny. I'll have to use that sometime. :D)_

_Music: NIN, Woodkid, Portishead._

* * *

_**Border of Taboo**_

**5**

_**• • •**_

"Seems like it'll be a good month," the Soldier grunt said as he flipped his calendar to November.

"I thought pin-ups were a thing of the past?" his bunk mate said, giving his helmet a playful knock before climbing into his own bed.

"Pin-ups will _never_ be a thing of the past," the first grunt affirmed, pinning his calendar to the wall with a smug grin. There was such an absence of pretty young women in Rocket Town that it was good to see a little flesh. It reminded him of home, of the woman who was waiting for him, the typical Midgarian she-wolf who wasn't afraid of a little immorality. He lovingly flattened the corners of his calendar with his palm.

The wall was trembling.

Hand stuck to the wall, feeling the vibrations, the grunt looked around the dormitory of the ShinRa base. All his comrades were already tucked in, most of them snoring away, limbs hanging off of every ledge. The vibrations were getting deeper – the grunt edged towards his ladder slowly, head poking out to look into the corridor ahead. There were the usual evening noises coming from the common room, but they were getting softer and softer as everyone retired for the night except the guards.

"What…"

In the second that followed, lightning seemed to shred his vision to pieces – blinding white seared into his skull, and the shriek of explosions tore through his mind. The walls caved in, and the very atoms that constituted reality seemed to shrink towards a far-off impact point, scuttling away from his groping fingers as he was propelled from his bed.  
Limbs and blood and wide, white eyes filled every corner of his vision and the earth met his body with a shattering crush, arms of steel hugging his body as the beds were torn from the walls and warped out of shape. But the arms were too tight, and they broke him, crushing his ribs in twos and threes, and if he'd remembered to breathe they would've speared through his shivering lungs.

There were yelled commands but the heat seemed to love his body too much, and it was pushing him down, crushing him until the earth seemed to be opening up to admit him into Her bowels. The yells were getting louder and louder, but they kept getting cut through by shrill missiles ripping through gravity - he couldn't understand anything – the numbness of miscomprehension had transformed him into a spectator of his own death, and before long the sounds and visions all morphed into one great white cataclysm that mercilessly sucked him in.

_**• • •**_

"Ladies."

Aeris let Hegemony precede her as they entered the grand salon after showing their invitations to the guards. They were in Rufus Shinra's private establishment; the towering baroque façade of the building had taken the slum girls' breath away as they'd been chauffeured into the parking lot. Cracked stone faces leered over each window, weathered into hellish grimaces, and the dark clutter of the night sky reflected in each unlit window so that an air of foreboding emanated from the place. It resembled an ancient convent of sorts that the president's son had repurposed into a proper residence.

"Darling –try not to look like you're pissing yourself. We're used to this, we're professionals," Gem had told her colleague, seeing how Aeris couldn't stop gaping and looking around herself.

"What, do you really think they'll believe we're deluxe escort girls who do this every other night?"

"Of course they will," Gem had assured her, "At least, if you stop looking around yourself like a schizo on the run. And stop touching the fur."

Always the good-natured friend, Hegemony had lent her a pearl-grey cape with a trim of soft white rabbit fur coming to hug the shoulders, something she'd acquired thanks to the generosity of an old client. She deemed it more important for Aeris to steal everyone's attention tonight, and besides, she didn't look half bad herself in that flattering backless number of hers, so it wasn't sacrificing much. Her hair was rather tamer though, curled artfully around her skull and fastened with sparkling pins, the back tumbling straight down her spine; and her face was rather modest tonight, seeing what company they'd be keeping; a plump rouge on her lips, and downright minimalism around the eyes, so that Aeris had almost started upon seeing her friend's real eyes when they'd finished getting ready. The older woman had ended up doing Aeris' face up for her since the poor girl had no clue on how to look for such an occasion, and had insisted on applying make-up like a toddler applies jam.

"Keep it on," Gem whispered to her as they walked into the salon behind two elegantly dressed couples; Aeris had been unfastening her cloak, so with a confused glance at her friend she clipped the thin chain back into place, snuggling into the fur. "You need Sephiroth to see you in full attire. That's bloody Janpingu fur from the Northern Continent, that is."

"Does he know I'm coming?"

Gem was putting on her professional haughtiness, looking around at the salon as if it didn't impress her at all. "No idea," she answered, "Fucking hell. Look at the _size_ of this place!"

Her lips hardly moved as she spoke, as if she didn't want to betray her wonder. Aeris looked away from her friend's face and took in the pure _luxury_ of the gambling salon. The low ceiling was dripping with crystals and faerie lights; polished wood-and-gold bannisters cut the vast place into sections, and burgundy carpets adorned the pathways that their heels sank into as they advanced. There was a bar to their left, along with many round tables where people were milling; there were those indulging in card games, others playing at the numerous pool tables, others still just having drinks and guffawing loudly, bellies straining against the gold buttons of their expensive tailored suits.

"Chime," Gem hissed as she took her friend's hand in order to squeeze her back to reality. "Close your mouth."

"Sorry!"

"And don't even think about picking anyone's pockets."

"I wasn't thinking about that at all," Aeris protested, appalled at the idea.

"I was," Gem said with a bloody grin.

Aeris trailed after her, trying to look as womanly as she could when they accosted a couple on their way to the bar. The man looked as though the sight of her was almost painful; his eyes kept slipping away from Gem to look her up and down again as Gem asked him where they could find the First Class men. The look in his eye made her wish she'd kept that fire materia and smuggled it in somehow.

When they were on their way again Aeris couldn't help tugging at her cloak and muttering, "I must look like a mouse wearing Red Dragon scales."

"Chime. You look like the Goddess incarnate. Now shut up and practice your poker cards."

Gem kept stopping to nod and smile and greet the women they encountered. Some seemed to share such complicity with her that Aeris couldn't help wondering if they were hired workers, too, but from above the plate. She suddenly felt like some kind of secret agent, having to hide her base origins under the glitter so that these people might deign to take her into consideration. They were heading towards the raised dais where poker games were being played; Aeris caught a glimpse of white hair, but their attention was diverted by two men in velvet-tipped suits.

"Ms. Hegemony, I take it?"

"Yes?" Gem came to a hesitant halt and looked down at the speaker. He seemed to be around his 50s, with greyish pockmarked skin, and Aeris couldn't decide whether he had a glass eye or just an alignment problem. His sidekick was considerably younger, smiling at them both like a perfect gentleman.

"From the Deenglow?"

"I'm afraid I don't have that pleasure," Gem answered smoothly. Aeris guessed that the Deenglow must be one of those proper, luxurious cathouses that supplied women to this type of party; it was almost flattering that a rich stranger would come to such a conclusion upon seeing them.

"Independent then?" the man went on.

"Why the interest?" Gem smiled, always the perfect actress.

"I'm Markus Delaine," the man said with a leering grimace that was probably intended as a smile. "I happen to run half the city's pleasure establishments. If you're interested, I could offer you a great deal of privileges that you probably don't have, in your current situation."

"I think we're doing quite well enough for ourselves already, aren't we love?" Gem smiled down at Aeris, trying to dispel the formality of the conversation. It was hard to see how tense her friend really was; but Aeris had still decided to let her run the show as usual, not knowing what on the Planet she could possibly say to help. She attempted to smile and trailed a hand down her fur to enforce Gem's point.

"That you are," Delaine agreed with a gracious smile, "But every lady knows that there's much more wealth and connections to be made with a little professional help."

"I'm afraid I already have an employer, Mr Delaine," Gem informed him with a look of playful disappointment, "I'm a brothel girl."

"Ah. May I ask which?"

It was obvious that she'd been trying to withhold that information for as long as possible, but Aeris could see her hesitating now. So their Boss was more of a humanitarian than a pimp, at least in his professional philosophy – but the work was still the same, the principle exactly the same. And seeing how far Hegemony had come, Aeris could understand that considering someone else's offer was possible even if it did feel like betrayal. But there was also the whole problem of being glitter-covered sewer rats that they were supposed to be keeping quiet.

"We're from the Honey Bee, in Sector 6," Hegemony let out confidently, holding her head up as if in defiance to the consequent judgment that Delaine would make.

The man looked practically gobsmacked. "Well. That was certainly unexpected. The ShinRa elite hire slum girls, now?"

"Hardly believable, I know," Hegemony said in an acidic tone, looking away from them. "Now if you'll excuse us - "

"Wait." Mr Delaine whipped out a shiny card from his inside pocket, handing it to Hegemony with a smile. "I meant no offense. In fact I'd be very happy to meet your patron."

Aeris was suddenly aware of someone coming towards them in her peripheral vision; she looked around as Hegemony took the card, and almost didn't recognize Genesis in his formal attire. He winked at her as he approached, and all four of them turned to acknowledge him as he called out,

"Delaying our goods as always, Markus?"

Both girls glanced at each other, inwardly raging at being called "goods"; but Gem recovered her cool façade instantly, smiling at their approaching client.

"I'm merely making conversation," Delaine indulged the First Class, who dismissed the comment with a snort.

"Conversation, my ass."

"I take it you're still losing then, Mr Rhapsodos?" The comment was blatantly insolent, but 'Mr Rhapsodos' apparently felt too superior to care.

"The game's only been going for 30 minutes. And everyone knows I play hard."

"You play reckless, Genesis," Gem retorted when he glanced at her. He smiled at that, while Delaine turned to the girls again.

"Shall I tell him to call then?" Gem asked him.

"I'd be very much obliged if you did that, yes. Thank you."

"You can't have the whole city, you know," Genesis admonished him, taking Aeris abruptly around the waist and pressing her against him. "Some treasures are best kept hidden."

"That's your opinion, my good friend," Delaine said with another would-be-friendly grimace.

"I'm about as much your _friend_ and these ladies are your workers, Delaine," Genesis said with a sarcastic smile, "Stop pushing it."

"Good luck in the game, sir," Delaine said with a small nod of acknowledgement, ignoring the goad since he'd accomplished what he'd set out to do.

"Why don't you hire yourself out next time?" Genesis growled at him, before nodding at Gem and taking off down the pathway with a wriggling Aeris still locked against him.

"Did you take his card?" he asked Gem as soon as they were out of earshot.

"Of course I did. I'd be an idiot to turn down potential offers like that."

Genesis _tch_ed disapprovingly. "That guy is a complete crook. The sheer amount of money he's made off of honest women's backs just kills me. And it's not the only domain he runs," he told them, "He's in charge of a number of illegal importations that everybody wants to run. If you ask me, it's better for you to steer clear of him."

"Yes, well, we _didn't_ ask you, did we?" Gem said with a small smile, "Thanks for the _honest women_ statement, as well. That really warmed my heart."

"Hegemony," Genesis said with a stern look, "I'm serious."

"You know I always try to find out a man's background before considering his offer," Gem told him.

"Oh? Did you check mine?"

Gem smiled. "I had to be instinctive about that. There are all sorts of twisted rumors about you."

"How unsurprising," Genesis laughed, before finally including Aeris in the conversation; "I'm glad our Chimera has such a good teacher."

Aeris didn't have the time to retort; they'd come to the master table, and she couldn't help noticing how the chatter seemed to be coming from everywhere except there: every eye seemed to be on her as she approached, pressed against Genesis' side as she was. She could feel the heat rising to her face as she beheld the man with the blonde quiff of hair, the one in the immaculate white blazer who was regarding her with such intensity that she had to look away – except her eyes fell on Sephiroth, who was the next irresistible eye-magnet sitting at the table, and whose gaze was hardly less intense. His elbows were on the table, one hand cradling his face as he'd apparently been puzzling out his next move before being interrupted by her arrival.

"Ah!" cried out a black-haired ShinRa executive who was off on the side, "We certainly needed more ladies at the table. Thank you, Genesis."

Gem smirked, while Aeris ripped her gaze away from Sephiroth's in order to realize that there were giggling women at everyone's side, leaning over them or standing to watch the game and chattering among themselves.

"There's never enough," Genesis justified himself, before turning and winking at Aeris, taking his arm from around her shoulders. Hegemony went to sit at Genesis' empty chair while the redhead looked down at his pretty little pawn and smiled a devil's smile. "Let me take that for you."

Blushing furiously, Aeris tried to lower her face so that her curls would hide her cheeks from view. She slowly unclasped the silver chain, letting the pearl-grey fabric slide from her bare shoulders in a liquid motion, throat becoming apparent as the fur was swept to the side.

"Eyes on the table, Sephiroth," jested one of the players – there were ten in total, most of them observing his behaviour or turning to their own female attractions as they waited for Sephiroth to decide.

Sephiroth, of course, didn't comply. The blushing object of his attention found that she couldn't even look in his direction without being caught in that acidic gaze, so she kept her head down and made her way over to him.

"Red suits you," he remarked coolly, surely about her current skin colour. She managed a shy smile as she came up to him, and while everyone wondered as to the ambiguity of his statement, he brought down his hand and scattered ten golden chips.

"Raise."

"One hundred thousand Gil," Rufus Shinra stated, "Your turn to act, Reeve."

Aeris started. _One hundred thousand?_ She was already trembling as she approached the man, but the game served as a reminder of just how far away these people were from the world she knew – a world in which such sums wouldn't be gambled away for no other reason than the base stimulation that suspense and chance brought about. Two richly dressed women glared at her as they ceded their place behind Sephiroth, wandering down towards the bar and whispering angrily – Aeris tried hard not to gloat as she slid her fingers over the back of her client's chair.

Reeve sighed at Sephiroth's right, scratching his thick black locks. "You're a bastard, you know that?" he said to the First Class, before taking his two cards and handing them back to Rufus. "I completely and utterly fold."

"Not so strong-willed now are we?" Rufus smiled as he put the cards at the bottom of the deck. Aeris watched as this impossibly important public figure casually plucked a few chips from his stacks, slicked back a strand of hair and placed his chips on the table. "I call."

The rest of the players either folded or followed Sephiroth's raise, none willing to raise more while the fourth card wasn't displayed yet. While they consecutively took their decisions, the silver-haired man turned in his chair and looked up at his distraction.

"Get enough sleep?"

"Not if I'd known how much money's at stake here," Aeris couldn't help saying, to which he actually afforded her a smile. He seemed relaxed, confident, as if he were sure of winning. She eyed the others' stacks of chips and noticed that he seemed to be a lucky streak – his own stacks were high and glittering with wealth. "What will you do with the money if you win?"

"Well, I'll give it to you, I suppose," he said, "So that you can continue to amaze me with your transformations."

Aeris could hardly believe what she was hearing. He'd been so cold to her – it had to be for the sake of the game, to make the others confused about the fact that THE Sephiroth was showing a rare sexual side in public.

"Oh yes," she responded, "Give me one hundred thousand and I'll go and _buy_ _dresses_."

"Don't pretend you aren't made of that same selfish fibre as all the other women," he baritoned, leaning back so that she had a clear view of his torso through the unbuttoned parting in his shirt. He was acting practically as wantonly as a Bee girl, so she could no longer believe that any part of it was other than an act. So she played along, heart pounding in her throat.

"I may be selfish about other things than clothes," she retorted with an attempt of a sly smile, and she saw a glint of appreciation in the General's gaze as he noticed the change in her body language.

"Possessive of me, are we?" Sephiroth said with a rare playfulness that made her heart plummet with awe, or arousal, or some tangled emotion of the sort.

"Deal," Rufus stated, tucking a card under the deck and drawing out the fourth and last card, which he slid over to the other three cards face-down. "Ready, gentlemen?"

"Don't be a cock, Rufus," said the only woman at the table, "Just show us the bloody card."

"Always so charming," Rufus winked at her suavely. "I'm President Shinra's son, I can be a cock if it pleases me."

"Does being the President's son also account for the talent of losing so much money?" Sephiroth said, to which a few people around the table laughed.

"I thought we weren't going to talk about the military cuts," Rufus all but whined, "Please don't start on the military cuts. It's my birthday."

"It may be your birthday but _I_ want to talk about that too," a scar-faced man stated gravely from across the table, "Depriving good men of their offices, delaying the bonus allowance for the Soldiers returned from Wutai, and for what? It's an outrage." Aeris noticed the two First Class men sharing a look of utter exasperation at this point. "The person who wins should donate the money to a charity for the President: _The Upper Class's Hand in President Shinra's Debts."_

"No, they should donate it to the Turks so that they might include a course on _International Economy for Idiots_ in their study program," Rufus shot back, to which the ruggedly handsome man grinned.

Genesis leaned forward; "You mean, _How to See Clearly through the Linguistic Wank of Legal Vocabulary." _Most of the players burst out laughing, and Rufus practically slammed the fourth card down on the table.

"Queen of fucking Diamonds, gentlemen," he interrupted them, before sitting back down and slicking back his hair.

"How appropriate," Sephiroth murmured, his face betraying nothing. "Something wrong, Veld?"

The man in question, the one with the scar, looked up at Sephiroth with a somewhat disdainful expression. "Don't pretend to be able to read me, boy."

"Ooh, harsh," Genesis grinned over at Sephiroth, who arched an eyebrow in a perfect show of indifference.

"You're the only boy I see here, Gen," he drawled contemptuously, "Folding at the second round."

"Speaking of which, why doesn't the big blind with the tiny cock go get us some drinks?" Rufus barked.

"You need to stop talking about cocks, my good man," Genesis said with feigned sadness, reaching over to pat him on the shoulder.

"I'll order for you all, I'm sick of this game," Reeve declared, standing up.

"I'll come with you," Aeris said, eager to get away from all the political banter that was making her ignorance painstakingly obvious. The men looked up at her appreciatively, and starting stating the cocktails they wanted; once she'd gotten her head around a few of the names, she leaned over her client's chair to ask what he wanted.

"Whatever you feel is right," was all he said, eyes staying on the table.

"Don't you have any limit?"

His lips curled into a grin. "Just don't get me any Laudanum."

She started. "They serve that here?"

"You're getting ideas, aren't you?"

Reeve offered her an arm and she smiled up at him as she took it, following him down the steps. The bar was on the other side of the room, so she tried to think about what she could get for her unnaturally conciliating client.

"You seem like a lovely girl," Reeve complimented her as soon as their feet had sunk into the carpet, "How on the Planet did you ever get mixed up with _that_ lot?"

"Oh, it's a long story," she said, "You don't feel like you're a part of them?" She was only striking up conversation, but she'd genuinely felt like there was a certain simplicity to this man that perhaps wasn't as apparent in the others.

"I certainly don't," Reeve laughed, "To tell you the truth I wouldn't even be here if Rufus hadn't given me an extension, 'out of friendship'. Gambling is not for me at all."

"Yet you still have to blend in," Aeris smiled at him, happy to have made him laugh.

"Oh yes," Reeve agreed gravely, "With ShinRa you blend in at the expense of your soul."

She smiled politely, and they continued on to the bar, Reeve nodding at people every now and then. Aeris tried to do the same even though she knew strictly no one, just to seem worldly enough to be on this man's arm.  
They returned with a plate full of drinks each; and when Aeris proudly set down the foggy green drink at Sephiroth's side, he looked up at her in genuine confusion.

"I thought we said no poisonous beverages?"

"It's not poisonous," she assured him, "Apart from its alcohol content, maybe."

His pale eyes narrowed on the glass. "How much?"

"Eighty percent."

"_What?"_ Rufus exploded upon hearing this, "I don't even think it's allowed to keep gambling while intoxicated. I appreciate the effort, miss, but you can't just knock him out in my favour."

"The girl doesn't favour _you_, Rufus," Sephiroth countered, "She knows I can handle this kind of thing." Chest puffing up with a queer pride, Aeris watched nervously as the man's sleek fingers plucked the glass up by its crystal stem, lips embracing the rim and taking a sip. He swallowed calmly under Rufus and Genesis' scrutiny, Adam's apple bobbing and eyes still heavy-lidded with indifference.

"Say something," Rufus demanded, and the silver-haired man waited a little before opening his mouth – he managed to wheeze out "it's good" and promptly broke into a coughing fit, the men around the table jeering at him and slapping their hands on the gambling mat.

"The girl who brought down a General," Genesis soliloquized as he went over to his friend in order to slap him on the back.

"_That's – not – helping,"_ Sephiroth coughed out as the redhead pounded his back; he turned in his chair as quick as a snake and made a grab at the redhead's wrist, but the man danced playfully out of his reach – in doing so he knocked into Aeris, who had gotten caught up in the hilarity and grabbed him around the chest to try and stabilize him for her client's better use.

"Traitor!" Genesis cried as he pretended to be unable to unlock her hands. Sephiroth got up in a majestic sweep of black and white, came up to his friend in one leather-clad stride and proceeded to close a hand around his throat.

"I think you should have a taste," he said, taking the absinthe in his free hand and bringing it to Genesis' face, who'd gone from playful to slightly worried. "You always follow me when it comes to dangerous substances after all."

"I always follow you, yes," the redhead hissed through the pressure of the other man's fingers, "More than you follow me."

"That's what makes us different," Sephiroth murmured, "You have moments of insanity. I have moments of calculated genius."

Aeris would've smiled at the irony of that statement if she hadn't been petrified of being caught in the fight if one of them lost their _sang-froid_.

"Alright," Rufus broke in, clapping his hands, "Can we be men for a second? If that's not too much to ask? It's your turn, Sephiroth."

"Raise," the silver said over his shoulder without even looking at the table.

"Someone's confident," Genesis sneered, and Aeris could feel his quickened pulse against her arms as she held onto him.

"Indeed," Sephiroth retorted coldly. The redhead brought a hand up calmly, though the fingers shook a little, and took the glass in a little jerk of the wrist. The General released his neck in response, wiping his hand against his shirt.

"Let's see what the little hero is made of then," Genesis positively growled, his free hand coming to settle on Aeris' like a challenge. "Cheers_,_" he grinned, before actually chucking back the entire glass – his eyes squeezed shut in the effort, and the poker table came alive with pounding fists and yelled encouragements as he gulped the neurotoxic liquid down.

"An entire wineglass of the strongest absinthe in Midgar, gentlemen!" Rufus roared, "I think we need new posters for our Soldier enlistment propaganda – Sephiroth, you might as well start packing your bags."

Aeris let the redhead go as he stumbled forwards after finishing the drink amidst thunderous applause. His eyes were still squeezed shut as he fell against Sephiroth – with a grunt of effort the silver-haired man supported him, grabbing him around the shoulders and taking the glass from him to prevent further incident.

"That's what you'd like, isn't it," he muttered. Genesis' expression was unreadable as he pushed against his old friend's chest, freeing himself from the man's grip.

"Don't touch me," he muttered back with a brief glare, before straightening his dinner jacket and bowing to acknowledge the players' applause. "Thank you, thank you."

The game went on. Aeris could've been a figure in the sculpted wood of Sephiroth's chair for all the attention he gave her; he won the round, and another game began, including those who had folded before. The first card fell, then the second – a few players folded – and the third card fell. Still no sign of her client acknowledging her existence; it seemed the tension between the two First Class was sparking so violently that all distraction had been forgotten or deemed as unimportant. So since she felt it was her duty to recover the precious attention he'd allowed her before, Aeris took a few minutes to convince herself of a plan of action; she went over to the pegs and pick the cigarette packet that Zack had given her from her cape pocket, coming back to the table with it and a pack of matches. She'd practised enough – it should be alright. She tried to ignore the silence of the table and the other girls leering at her as she struck a match, delicately lighting the fag as it hung from her lips. The smoke tasted of sugar – and perhaps it was thanks to the taste that she found it suddenly easier to inhale. She mentally noted to thank Zack later for this little piece of genius.

She nonchalantly rested a hand next to Sephiroth's on the table, lodged the cigarette between two fingers and extended her throat, white tendrils escaping her mouth in sensuous curls as she pretended to watch the game. She could feel Genesis staring at her, though her intended target still seemed aggravatingly oblivious to her presence. And then, after a few more exhales…

"Give me one of those."  
Victory! … but she couldn't seem to decide whether to actually be glad or afraid of having recovered some of his attention. She felt her pulse accelerating as she tried to act confident, as if none of what had happened had intimidated her in the slightest. It was her job to catch his eye after all, however psychopathic he revealed himself to be. Oh _Crisis, _this was a bad idea.

"Say please," she said, looking down at him playfully and daring to blowing the smoke in his direction. He looked up, watching her with cool curiosity through the haze and not even blinking as the acrid cloud enveloped him. And then in the moment that followed his fingers were slowly closing around her chin, and his face was drawing impossibly close to hers – she could feel sudden heat on her lips and in her loins as he breathed in the smoke that poured from her mouth. His lips grazed hers, hard and tantalizing, and her mind was whirring so fast that she didn't even know who or where they were any more.

"Please," he indulged her, lips dancing against her open mouth. His eyes were on hers, and she could see the specks of rust in the abnormal green. The fibres of his irises seemed to absorb her attention, flawed and beautiful as they were, and then there was nothing except those eyes and his mouth against hers, except he wouldn't let her deepen the kiss, if that's what it was – his fingers tightened around her jaw, holding her back. When she obediently moved back a little he relaxed his hold, fingers trailing feather-light down her throat.

She couldn't breathe. _It's an act, it's an act, it's an act. You idiot, it's just an act.  
_She tried to smile, not knowing whether she wanted him to throw her down on the poker table and take her right then and there, or if she should rather give him a good hard slap. It was when he turned his head and gazed straight at Genesis that it finally hit home, that it was all just to destabilize the others, so she straightened up and tried to calm down as she fumbled for the cigarette packet.

"Your wish is my command," she said to try and cover her shock, offering the packet to him. Sephiroth lowered his positively incandescent eyes as he drew a cigarette, bringing it to his lips. She struck a match against the lighting strip, and he mercifully kept his eyes down as she lit it for him. She could practically feel her pulse pounding at the apex between her thighs as he breathed in – she wondered if she'd had any effect on him at all. Probably not, but…

She watched as he swallowed the smoke, twitching an eyebrow at the taste. Then upon exhaling he pushed two thirds of his fortune towards the central pot, before leaning back in his chair and gazing at Genesis.

"Raise."

_Okay, definitely not._

"Oh, fucking hell." Reeve folded again, Rufus too. Genesis returned his old friend's gaze with a calculating intensity – Aeris was sure that if she stuck a hand between his and Sephiroth's eyes she'd probably get burned.

He scattering his stacks over the table in one vehement sweep. "Call." He had so little left that he could only bet everything to match Sephiroth's amount.

"Now who's confident," Sephiroth stated with a cool grin.

"One would think you two boys can actually _afford_ to bet this high," Rufus broke through the tension, dealing the fourth card face-down. "Ready?"

The two First Class never looked away from one another as they acquiesced. Rufus turned over the fourth card – a black Joker looked up at both players with a defiant grin, as if knowing he'd doomed one of them. Aeris thought she saw a twinge of despair go through Genesis' eyes; Rufus asked both players to reveal their cards.  
Sephiroth placed two red fives on the playing mat; Rufus slid them up to the four cards, fitting them next to the five of Spades, the ten of Hearts, and the two Jokers.

"Full house," he stated while the silver-haired man looked smugly at his adversary. "Looks like somebody's thoroughly fucked."

"Yeah," Genesis sighed, sliding his cards over to Rufus face-down. The blonde flipped them over; two Jokers grinned up at him, and he cried out in surprise.

"Four of a kind," Rufus stated, sliding the four Jokers together, and everyone seemed to jump up on their chair, each trying to calculate the odds of getting such a hand while Genesis smiled insolently at his rival: Sephiroth looked like he was going to kill him. Everyone started congratulating him for being the first to finally beat the General, while he greedily raked the pile of chips towards himself.

"Let me just take that," he said with a grin, dragging Sephiroth's stacks across the table and not even wincing under the man's scalding glare. Their wealth was reversed.

"You operate on pure luck," the silver-haired man stated, "No strategy whatsoever."

"Go ahead and think that, if it makes you feel better," Genesis retorted, getting up as Hegemony began forming neat little stacks with his chips.

"No strategy means empty victories," Sephiroth went on, "You'll lose it all the minute your luck runs out."

"Chimera, I think your client needs some cheering up." The redhead winked at her as he stretched. She didn't think it would be very wise to even look at her client – he was finishing his cigarette with an alertness that led her to believe that if she touched him she'd promptly get her arm ripped off.

"Shall I get you another drink?" she attempted as Rufus shuffled the deck, everybody relaxing and chatting about the game.

"Why don't you entertain the one who actually paid for your services?" Sephiroth told her with a vim that made her physically wince. The logical assumption was that he didn't take well to losing, but she couldn't help taking it personally. She thought she'd done everything right, responding to his hints, playing into his hands – but apparently it had been sheer luck, and it seemed she was running out of it. Trying not to appear hurt, she lit herself a second cigarette with shaking hands and moved away, joining the conversational circle between Reeve and two other players who were standing to stretch their legs. Reeve admitted her with a smile, and she felt herself glowing with a much-desired feeling of acceptance.

Just as Rufus finished dealing out the cards, there was a sudden movement beyond their table; there was man rushing towards them, calling out somebody's name with an urgency that made everyone look up. Aeris looked around to see an elegantly dressed blonde man hurrying up the stairs. There was a confused hush in which several of the players wondered aloud, "What's Lazard doing here?"

"Genesis, for fuck's sake," this Lazard fellow boomed as he came up to the table and slapped his hands down on the mat. He was panting with exertion, cheeks red as though he'd rushed to get there – Genesis looked at the man with a confused expression. "Why haven't you been answering your phone?"

"Phones are taken at the entrance," Rufus informed the man, apparently offended at not even getting a greeting when it was _his_ party. "Actually, I don't remember inviting you." _  
_

"There are more important things than your petty social hierarchy," Lazard shut the president's son up without a second's hesitation, "Like a First Class's duty towards his garrisons, for example."

"What's going on?" Genesis said, becoming slightly pale as he held Lazard's gaze. Rufus was going on a self-righteous rant about deserving a bit of respect, but Lazard cut through his little speech with information that hit the table like a bomb;

"Our base at the Rocket Launch Pad has been wiped out."

Silence. Everybody was looking up at him with round eyes – Genesis seemed to have frozen in his place. Then he willed himself into skirting the table and approaching his superior though it seemed to kill him to accept the reality of the situation – whatever the situation was. Aeris hadn't even heard of the Launch Pad before, never mind how important it was in ShinRa's affairs. She instinctually followed Reeve as the ShinRa heads crowded around Lazard, the other players staying at the table and speculating on what this implied.

"It happened five hours ago. The whole place was bombed to oblivion," Lazard informed them, still glaring at Genesis who couldn't seem to look anyone in the face. "Why is it that I received this information before you, Genesis? It was your garrison out there. You were supposed to be supervising their every movement."

"I was," Genesis defended himself, but Lazard interrupted him angrily;

"No, you were here, playing around like some dumb grunt with no obligations."

"Look, how could I have even predicted - "

"It's not about predicting," Lazard cut through him again.

"So what the fuck are we talking about if not prevention?" Genesis snapped back.

"_Five hours_, Genesis," Lazard shouted at him, "Five fucking hours! We're talking about _reaction time_, about being able to prevent more losses after the initial blow."

"Have you dispatched the medical team?" Genesis said mechanically.

"Who do you think I am? I dispatched them as soon as I knew," Lazard lashed back. "But it was _your job_, Genesis, _your_ garrison."

"I can't monitor every foreign garrison's movement for twenty-four hours straight!" Genesis shot back, "I had delegated my authority to some excellent officers over there. And besides, I'm no fucking robot."

"You aren't a robot, but you're pretty damn near – you're _First Class_. You should be able to handle your responsibilities."

"So what's the result?" Sephiroth smoothly cut through their argument.

"He was here, too!" Genesis said as if the idea had occurred to him upon hearing the man speak, "I'm not the only First Class who actually tries to have a life beyond his duties."

"Maybe, but he apparently stays in contact with his own officers so that they aren't left _blind_ and _unaided_ for the duration of his service in the city," Lazard crushed his argument before addressing Sephiroth's question, "This is technically unimportant when it comes to our coastal defenses, but the loss of the launching pad would greatly hinder our success rate in keeping the Wutain contained. And, there are all sorts of plans and equipment there that the Wutain _mustn't_ get their hands on."

"Retaliation will easily secure all of that," Sephiroth stated, shifting as though ready to leave the place and take care of the details.

"Angeal has already seen to the necessary offensive," Lazard said with a wave of the hand, "Apparently we still have a few First Class who are actually around to do their job."

"Do we know the losses yet?" Sephiroth inquired; apparently Genesis didn't have the heart to ask about the situation.

"We have some estimations," Lazard told him, "They're raking in the wounded by the hundred though. The bombing reached environing villages, so we're taking them in too since their hospitals are either wiped out or overflowing."

Genesis let out a vehement curse, turning to walk away from the circle.

"We're actually asking for volunteers at the ShinRa hospital, since they're already full after our bloody victory at the Da Chao two weeks back."

"That victory was supposed to be decisive!" Genesis all but shouted, turning towards them again. "Everyone thought the bastards had finally tucked their tails in after accepting our terms."

"Looks like you ran out of luck," Sephiroth stated, daring to smile. Genesis stared at him, and he seemed to grow white out of pure _rage – _he lunged at the First Class, apparently too angry to speak, but Reeve and another executive grabbed at his arms and waist, holding him back. Sephiroth stared him down coldly as the man struggled to free himself.

"You think you're so fucking perfect," Genesis spat, "It could've been your men."

"Well, it wasn't," Sephiroth retorted, still unnervingly detached.

"Unless you have something important going on here, I suggest we get moving," Lazard told them, "Technically we've got everything under control, but as First Class you should at least be physically present at the HQ."

"I don't mean to be conceited but," Rufus said, "there's a lot of unresolved bets sitting on the table."

"Just cancel the fucking game," Lazard spat at him, clearly thinking the man ridiculous. "Let's go."

Aeris was so shaken that she couldn't help blurting out; "You said you needed volunteers?"

Lazard turned to look at her, apparently not having noticed her existence until then. He considered her sternly. "At the hospitals, yes. You have some skill in healing?"

"Who the fuck do you take yourself for?" Sephiroth suddenly rounded on her, "Don't pretend to understand any of this."

She stared at him, practically delirious with all the conflicting emotions that the discussion was animating in her. Her mouth parted, but his gaze was so crushing that she couldn't will herself to speak.

"She's in her right to volunteer," Lazard said, surprised at how cruel the First Class was being to this apparently innocent girl.

"I'll resign my office before I see some whore in the presence of our wounded," he said, "It's blatantly unethical."

Lazard looked at her briefly, letting out a hesitant "Oh" as if the fact that she was a prostitute somehow justified Sephiroth's objection. Before she could even try to defend herself, they had broken the circle, apologizing to the baffled host and getting on their way.

Aeris tried to contain herself as she went to fetch her cape. She felt like screaming to the world that she was _somebody_ under her profession, or just breaking down and crying like a little girl; even Reeve had sort of looked away and dropped the affair as if it was useless to try and defend her. There was so much disappointment and anger and pure frustration welling up inside of her that she felt like she'd explode if she didn't get out of there, feeling like every single gaze that fell on her person was an accusation.

Hegemony had appeared at her side as she strode away from the poker table.

"Darling, just, please," the woman tried to get her attention as she practically jogged to keep up, "Don't take this to heart, ok? You did really well tonight. You just forgot that he'll always disapprove of prostitutes, however sweet he might be from time to time."

"It's not even about him," Aeris said, her voice cracking up, "I can't – I can't talk about this."

"Ok," the woman agreed after considering her friend's expression, her stride matching Aeris'. "Fuck the lot of them, let's just get out of here."

"Yes," the flowergirl growled, allowing herself the luxury of cursing to relieve her anger. "Fuck them."

But cursing didn't alleviate much; it only served to feed her anger rather than douse it. She practically snatched the phone she'd bought thanks to Sephiroth's generosity from the guard as they exited the salon and made their way out of the mansion.  
Genesis had been mindful enough to get them a taxi before leaving with his superior; the driver waved at them as they walked across the parking lot.

"At least one of them has a few redeeming aspects," Hegemony said, then she noticed Aeris dialing a number. Her eyes widened, and she swiped at the phone. "Are you _mad_, don't call him!"

"Don't worry, I don't even have his number," Aeris said, knowing her friend was referring to that white-haired bastard. "I'm calling Zack."

Hegemony stared at her. "You're not coming down with me?"

"If he's at his dormitory at the HQ I think I'll sleep above the plate," Aeris told her, "Besides, there's hardly a few hours before morning."

"What, are you planning to ambush the ShinRa heads with big panels full of feminist ranting when they go out for lunch tomorrow?" Gem laughed, though she looked a bit worried.

Aeris was too grey-faced and disgusted to even afford her a smile. "Better still," she said, "I'm going to exercise my rights in this city right in their faces, if I can manage." It was only after brooding on these thoughts for a few seconds that she realized how selfish she was being; she looked up at her friend with an apologetic expression. "Oh, what am I doing! I can't let you go down on the night train alone."

"You could always ask Zack to accommodate both of us," Gem offered, "I don't know what you're going to do but if you're going to stand up for us then I certainly don't want to stop you."

"Alright," Aeris finally smiled at her, before Zack picked up on the other end of the line. "Zack? Yeah. Listen, I've got something to ask you…"

_**• • •**_


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's notes: Wow, thanks for the feedback guys! :D Love you!  
Guest - Yes, I do hope his true intentions won't end up too obscure for anyone to understand, hah! I'm having a bit of trouble keeping him in-character, he keeps trying to escape the plot in order to express his usual fabulous self. Hopefully I'll manage to keep him under control for these coming chapters.  
Lily - Well technically Sephiroth's grief is with the presence of prostitutes at the actual hospital, among the dying. He doesn't disapprove of them flocking around his Soldiers - you can see how laid back he is about that during the previous ShinRa soirées. He's just a tiny bit paranoid about them approaching _him_ in those cases. ;)_

_It killed me to cut this in two, but the chapter was getting really long and the content was so contrasting that I had to. ;_; Next chapter will therefore come in two or three days! Do tell me what you think, you lovely faithful readers, you._

_Music: Melody Gardot - So we meet again my heartache (live at Avo Session), The Rain, Love me like a River does. _

* * *

_**Border of Taboo**_

**7**

_**• • •**_

Zack didn't know if he'd been happier in his life. Two gorgeous women and himself had just spent the night completely cramped and intimate in his tiny 10m² room; as a result of the night he felt as though there had never been another man in Midgar to have been as privy to the female mind as he had, though like in any psychological exploration there were gaping holes that he preferred not to try and jump into. His eyes unstuck with difficulty, opening on a view of utter chaos; there were glittery dresses strewn over every surface, bottles and brushes and powder-covered puffs sitting around amidst his very sparse belongings. They'd ranted about the evening for so long that he'd only gotten a few hours' sleep, and the girls even less since they'd dozed off at around 4am. And he could still feel the excess of soft, bare skin all around him, making his body hair stand on end due to the sheer heady sensation of close proximity and_ Bois de Vanille_ perfume. They'd been three on his single bed; he was in no fit state to notice exactly whose limbs were hooked around his body this morning, or whose breast he was snuggled against, his brain being taken up by a glaring 404 error that prevented him from properly analyzing the situation further than "naked women agggg".

Hegemony was knocked out - they'd glugged down the alcohol that he usually kept around for moments of acute humiliation, which were mostly limited to the parkour days under Sephiroth's supervision. The bottle rolled over his stomach as Zack tried to heave her long lithe limbs from his body, seeing Aeris at his desk trying to make sense of the make-up sticks in the lamplight.

"I know about as much about make-up as I do about Midgarian foreign policy," she hiccupped miserably in his general direction, the remaining alcohol in her veins making her adorably clumsy. "I'm not fit to call myself woman."

"I thought you were going to the hospital this morning?" Zack whispered as he disengaged himself from Hegemony's legs. "You don't need to do that if that's the case."

"I want to be recognizable," Aeris justified herself. "I had eyes like lumps of coal yesterday, thanks to her." A nod at the snoring lump on the bed.

"I think you're recognizable enough, 'Ris," Zack told her tenderly, before tripping over the pile of clothes on the floor and catching himself on a random suspender that was hanging from the handle of his cupboard door. He managed to disentangle himself with many a mutter and a curse, snatching up the suspender and swinging it over his shoulder, bending over to search for the other one. It was such a _mess_ – and he was going to leave the place like this for at least two weeks! He hadn't even kept track of which pile was dirty laundry –everything was mingled now anyway.

"I'm going to be so late because of you and Gem's girly shenanigans," he grumbled, before gleefully extracting the second suspender from the pile and clipping them to his trousers.

"Didn't you listen to anything we said last night? It's important," Aeris said huffily, "You boys act like we don't care about getting insulted all night long; as if to you, a girl is some kind of sentient spit pot with a sense of style."

Zack laughed at that. "I know, but like I told _you_ last night, I'm supposed to take the bloody plane with Angeal's reinforcements this morning to go and clear up that idiot's mess. I don't mean to say the war is more important than your feelings or anything, but, a man has duties."

It was Aeris' turn to smile as she turned to look at him. "Of course my feelings are more important," she said, but then her expression softened, eyes glazing over, and she added, "Don't call him an idiot." Before he could speculate on the improbability of an innocent little flowergirl like her defending someone like Genesis, she'd hopped towards him to sort through his clothes; she was wearing one of his blue grunt jumpers, hands lost in the oversized sleeves, bare legs peeping out from the hem. "Do you have anything I can wear?"

"What happened to daylight clothing?" Zack chastised her, "Now that was clumsy."

"We were chauffeured up, I've only got my trench coat to hide in," Aeris told him, "I thought things would go a little differently."

The spikey-haired Second Class huffed at that. "Still a beginner's mistake."

"Oh will you shut up, you pompous little madam," Aeris cried, throwing a pair of holed socks at the man, who ducked out of the way. He found her the smallest pair of trousers he owned, a big black leather belt, and… when he tugged a decidedly feminine tank top out from a drawer, he tried to give her an apologetic grin but she whacked him around the head anyway, taking the top from him.

"Like it's not enough to work at the Bee four nights a week!" she teased him as she stretched up to pull the jumper over her head. Zack tried and failed to look away as her flawless skin extended over her muscles, light green veins apparent in the crags of her hipbones like green string unraveling from her girlish underwear. He knew it would never do to tell her the real reason behind his apparent nymphomania; he'd made the mistake of flattering her for far too long, and now she was all but insensible to his advances, thinking him rather cute and a little bothersome in his endless efforts. And she was even starting to convince him that his feelings for her were rather childish and premature; though there was nothing _childish_ about what he wanted to do upon seeing all of that bare flesh.

She'd pulled the tank top over the tempting expanse in the second that followed, nonchalantly adjusting her bra as she reached down for the trousers and pulled them up. They hung from her legs, baggy folds drooping like so many grinning mouths from hip to toes.

"There aren't enough holes in this," she mumbled as she yanked at the belt, so Zack reached towards her with an amused smile, sliding his fingers between the trousers and her warm skin.

"Let me do it," he said when she protested, setting the beltline lower on her hips and cinching it at the last hole, the movement jerking her hips towards his. "There you go. The perfect tomboy."

She was apparently too groggy to swat his hands away. "When does day break?"

"In an hour or so," he murmured, taking advantage of her apparent sleepiness to draw her against him, "Look, this is your vendetta. But I still don't think it's a good idea to try and piss Sephiroth off."

"I'm not trying to piss him off, I'm trying to establish myself in his mind as a human being," she corrected him, hugging him loosely around the waist in response.

"Well, exactly," Zack laughed, "I think the man believes he's the only one worthy of the name_ human_ in this city."

"And you think it's a bad idea to try and change that?" Aeris asked him.

"I think it's a bad idea for _you_ to try and change that," he rectified, "You're my little Aeris."

The girl in question just laughed at that, pushing away from him in order to undo her braid. "I know I'm inoffensive. I just want him to see me – it's a passive message, really."

"Still…" Zack scratched the back of his head for a second, watching the three long chunks of her hair come apart. An idea occurred to him, and he stumbled over to his cupboard – he took out a small fiery orb that he'd always neglected due to the fact that he already owned several Mastered ones.  
"Here." He gave it to her, and he thought his heart just about melted to goo in his chest upon seeing her lips curl up in gratitude, cheeks hitching with a childish plumpness. She reached up to tie it into her hair before starting a new, clean braid.

"And then you say you're _not_ bad influence," she told him playfully, "I told you I wanted to send a passive message at the man, not a blast of fire."

"Always have a back-up plan," Zack said wisely. Then he raised his eyebrows when she next looked at him, hands up in her hair. "Don't I even get a kiss then?"

_**•**_

It was hard to concentrate on where she was going, since there were a thousand wanderers walking their own paths and going on their way in long decisive paces; and whenever she saw a glint of well-brushed leather or a sweeping cascade of white-blonde hair she felt her heart contract and her stride waver. She still couldn't believe how set she was on her objective; nothing had ever taken her to heart so strongly that she'd decided to go against the natural agoraphobia that gripped her as soon as she was alone in the Upper World. She buried her hands in her trouser pockets and put her head down, trying not to stare at the women that passed in the clear light of dawn, chins buried in their furs and brocade scarves, either chattering away in their hi-tech headsets or talking loudly among themselves of things she'd never heard of before. Her lack of knowledge seemed to clunk in her body like a dead weight, a great mass waiting to be filled – but then again, if these people were all as knowledgeable and yet morally vapid as those she'd seen so far in the _soirées_, they were hardly worth anyone's envy.

Her eyes lifted from time to time to the towering ShinRa building which was a few streets away; in the reflection of her eyes the glass building seemed to become overgrown with a vivid green moss that ate away at the arrogant statement it made of man's defiance in the face of nature. She could never look up at it without remembering her days of captivity; though they were distant, and Time had mercifully lessened their impact on her sanity, she couldn't help feeling the cold clawing down her spine. She hoped against hope that Hojo wouldn't be present at the ShinRa hospital; she'd gathered that he was rather a lab man, someone who worked on theorization and scientific advancement rather than public intervention.

The hospitals were coming into view; she was beginning to feel like her plan was a bit unrealistic, now that she was actually putting it into play. And it wasn't even a certified fact that Sephiroth would be there at all. And what if they didn't even accept her due to her want of qualifications? And -

She was in front of the hospital doors. _Ok. I've come this far._ She should think of her mission as something born from human compassion and not some mere vendetta, as Zack had put it. Since when had she started thinking like that? If the First Class saw her, then fine, but that shouldn't have become the main objective. And she wasn't even thinking about whether or not there'd be _physical_ consequences if they saw her; technically she hadn't even thought past the initial visual contact.

She was in her rights. That sufficed to reassure her that she'd come to no harm.

Catching a glimpse of herself in the glass doors, she discreetly licked her fingers and tried to smooth her hair against her skull before going in, feeling more and more like a hermit having scrambled out into the light. She looked like a damn vagrant – it would never do.

She breathed in, pushed the door open, and put on her best squeaky clean smile for the nurse who held the front desk.

"We can only provide service for emergencies." It was like an automated statement: the diligent woman didn't even look up from her paperwork as she heard the bell tinkling upon Aeris' entrance.

"I'm here to volunteer as aid for the war victims," Aeris stated.

"You have any credentials?" She raised her eyes, scanning the girl from the baggy trousers to the black muffler to the windblown hair.

"I'm a nurse down at the slums," Aeris lied, knowing as well as this nurse that no slum professional possessed anything to accredit their skill. Nevertheless, the nurse's expression went from skeptic to instantly approving as she heard this.

"Then you're more than welcome," she said, tone warming Aeris' heart after all her morbid considerations of female Upworlders on the street. "I'll just need you to confirm your skill with an assistant, and then you'll be directed to a ward where your specific skills are needed." She fumbled in one of her drawers.

"Realistically speaking, even the most qualified are pushing trays and cleaning material – everyone's doing everyone else's work, so you'd best get ready for some hard and varied activity."

Aeris nodded as the woman reached over to slip a "volunteer" tag around her neck. The lady smiled at her with respect glowing in her eyes as she added; "You guys are amazing for coming up here to help. There a so many qualified Upworlders who won't put in the extra hours just because the pay isn't guaranteed. As soon as the rush is over I've half a mind to call you slum nurses back up and give you all their positions."

Aeris hadn't realized how much she'd been missing moral praise like this. Her smile became genuine as she adjusted her tag.

"I just want to help."

The nurse nodded, then leaned forward to confide in the new volunteer; "I know slum work must be tough, and that gang wars and the like can have outcomes just as dire as what you're about to see. But you have to prepare yourself for the worse. The stream of income is _endless._ And a lot of them can't be saved. Don't take it to heart, ok?"

Hearing that same statement but in a completely different context struck Aeris as strange; she'd found that wearing her heart on her sleeve was the actual reason behind all the initiatives she'd ever taken. Nevertheless, she nodded, telling herself that being sensitive couldn't possibly be a bad thing in these situations.

_**•**_

Oh, how wrong I was.

The smell is the first thing that startles me into disgust and fear; they handed me a mask but it hardly blocks out anything. It smells of rotten flesh laced through with the sickening smell of medication and disinfectant; it's such an overpowering blend that I almost vomit upon stepping in the corridor. I'm directed to one of the worst wards when they see my potency with curative materia; one of the closest wards to the entrance where Soldiers get directly carted in. So I keep hearing the doors bang open and the squeak of wheels as the men and women are hurried in, doctors and nurses shouting the states of the Soldiers so that aids can take them over and lead them to the appropriate rooms.

Several aids are with me in the waiting room, most of them women; we take notes of what the doctors say, clip medical résumés on the patients' beds, apply pain-numbing medication and, for those who know how to, connect certain patients to IVs. There is a glittery fog of magic in the air after an abusive use of Cure and Esuna; we aids are mostly there to rid the patients of superfluous infections and wounds so that their main inflictions aren't worsened, supervising the passage from "waiting room" to operation table.

It's been two hours already. The veins in my arms feel like they're about to burst after so much magic; but nothing in my body feels as raw and chafed as my eyes, after seeing so many shattered bodies, reds and blacks blooming over entire landscapes of shredded skin, dislocated limbs distorting the notion of human anatomy, making me feel like I'm the abomination here with my clean skin and straight bones. I can see why she told me not to take anything to heart; my own body seems to have retreated into a sort of emergency numbness, and it's not before the income starts slowing that I allow myself to consider the Soldiers as humans and not broken bodies in need of fixing.

Talking is something we have to do to keep certain Soldiers conscious, so after a while I begin to lose the automatism of it as we keep the less battered Soldiers a little longer than others in the waiting room. A lot of them keep calling for their mothers or abstract entities; one of them keeps calling out softly, so I go over to him, my heart suddenly aching as I see how handsome he must've been under the burnt skin of his face.

"Tabitha," he's saying repeatedly in a tortured murmur, "Tabitha…"

He's groping feebly at the air, his breaths wheezing in and out of his tired lungs. I'm standing directly over him but the burn has made him blind; his eyelids are covered in a shiny mash of blisters, his entire face burned away except for a part of his jaw and his impossibly sensual lips. It grips me suddenly, how unfair it is – how unfair for the woman he's calling after, and how unfair that the woman isn't here, even though there are way too many people here for anyone to be able to find their loved ones. But couldn't Providence just give people a little push in the right direction in these situations? I'm looking down at him and it becomes agonizingly apparent, how many lovers are being torn apart at this very moment, how many parents and children are separated without even a chance to kiss goodbye. He's whispering the name now, his voice guttural and despairing, and something forces me to take off my latex glove and grasp his reaching hand.

"I'm here," I whisper, and a hot rush of tears blurs my vision, "I'm here."

I'm leaning over him without thinking, and my tears fall to his throat; he turns his head a fraction, and his burnt skin pulls and strains as he smiles.

"Don't cry, Tabby…" His fingers quirk as they close around my hand, nerves probably fried due to his extensive burns, but he still brings my hand up against his chest. I lean closer, following the movement, and he tries to reach for my face with his other hand – there are several fingers missing, and the horror of it coupled with the tenderness of the gesture just pulls me over the edge.

"Tabitha," he whispers again as the tears run freely down my face; then just before his amputated fingers reach me there are firm hands on my shoulders pulling me away.

I look up, trembling violently, and the aid seems to think twice on telling me off for removing the gloves.

"You should take a break, sweetie," she says, "I'll take over."

In a sweep of steps and consoling pushes I'm in the corridor, ripping off my mask and gloves in order to take my face in my hands, touching smooth skin and telling myself I'm not involved with anyone here. I'm not involved. I'm not involved. _Don't take it to heart_, they said.

There are other aids in the corridors wearing volunteer tags, sitting with their heads bowed in the plastic chairs. Some of them even have tranquillizers in their hands; I'm not sure I want to add that to my mushy, overripe heart. I'm leaning against a water dispenser, not even conscious of my actions as I prepare myself a cup of water. I shouldn't have said I was a slum nurse; it was blatantly disrespectful, to presume that I could take this much pressure. I swipe my face with a trembling hand, trying to get rid of the tears though my cheeks are sopping wet, before taking my cup. There's a flow of jazz music in the corridor as if to soothe our nerves, but the woman's crooning voice hardly does anything for me apart from nail the despair of the situation.

There's a movement in the corridor ahead, double doors opening slowly, and my heart almost stops as I see the General in his military attire, covered in black leather from head to toe. I had honestly forgotten about wanting him to see me, or wanting to have anything to do with him at all, I was so absorbed in attending to the patients and trying to keep up with the flurry of activity. Considering it now, it was a completely stupid idea to want him to see me – I keep my head down as I sip my water with shaking hands. A figure gets up from one of the chairs in a space veiled by foggy glass panels, and I can't help being intrigued as Sephiroth stills upon seeing the person, his determined expression cracking slightly. It looks like he can't decide whether to be angry or desolate, which is something I'd never thought I'd live to see; but then the figure behind the glass begins advancing towards him hesitantly, and he makes up his mind.

He goes towards the figure with resolute strides, and disappears behind the glass, becoming a gritty silhouette. When they meet he reaches out and pulls the other person into a violent embrace, silhouettes mingling and becoming one.

I keep an eye on the glass, wondering who might've earned the General's affection and wondering whether I might be hallucinating the whole thing since it just seems so improbable that the man might set aside his cold façade for everyone to see like this. They part, and begin walking towards the visible part of the corridor; the shock of seeing Genesis appear at the General's side slightly lessens when I see how terrible he looks. Even I want to give him a hug, after all the crap he's put me through. He's ashen-faced, wearing one of those expressions of forced indifference that cover up a wealth of emotion.

They're coming closer – my erratic pulse reminds me to turn away before they see me, hands coming up discreetly to pull my mask back over my face.

"… not your fault," Sephiroth's saying with the deep, rough voice of a man who's spent the night smoking instead of sleeping, "The communications block was the first thing they bombed, so even if you'd been on the screens at the moment of the bombing you couldn't have taken any major decisions until an hour later."

"That's still four hours wasted," Genesis states listlessly, "Fucking Rufus and his ban on phones. I still can't believe it's thanks to the fucking press department and their journalists rather than Soldiers that we managed to know the extent of the situation."

"The place is in the middle of nowhere," Sephiroth counters him, clearly trying to comfort him and erase all fault. "Without the proper equipment, our network doesn't even reach it. "

"I know what you're trying to do," Genesis says, looking up at his friend; they pass right in front of me, and I catch a whiff of sweat and fresh soil on their leathers. "Thanks for the effort, but you can't take the blame away."

"Look at how your Soldiers greeted you in the recovery rooms," Sephiroth tells him, "They didn't blame you at all. Most of them were actually smiling when we left."

Genesis looks away, and he brings a hand up to his face, pressing his fingers against his eyes. My feelings are so warped out of shape by now that I almost run up to him to give him some type of comfort; but Sephiroth's mere presence, the black of his leathers and the scent I recognized from his apartment stills any mindless urge of compassion. My cup's been empty for a few minutes now; shaken back to reality, I toss it away and pull my gloves back on, heading towards my attributed room.

I find myself wondering about whether or not I'm mentally qualified for this job as I manage to reclaim a neutral state of mind while taking care of my next patients. The receptionist's ironic statement about filling up positions here with slum nurses actually sounds quite appealing, though I'm really not sure I could do this for more than a day at a time. It feels so strange to think of my nightly occupations as I unzip new patients' uniforms in order to put them at ease; as far as high society seems to view the morality of jobs, I'd be working the worse possible job there is during the night, and the best during the day, if I signed on as medical aid. It was completely offensive and I still haven't forgiven him, but somehow it's becoming easier to understand Sephiroth's reaction upon mentioning that I could conciliate prostitution and medical care. The fact that he knows nothing about me doesn't really help in the whole forgiving scenario, since I still regularly help out slummers when I'm not too knocked out to spend a day wandering through the Sectors. Maybe it doesn't even matter whether I forgive him about it or not – it's unlikely he'll ever tolerate my presence again even if Genesis hires me for him. Hmph. It's slightly difficult to think about it as the simple possibility of a regular income vanishing, rather than the precious attention of the most important man of ShinRa vanishing… Oh, _come on_, Aeris. He's a bastard. No reason to be disappointed.

Still, I have to wonder just how he would've reacted upon seeing me here- as Zack told me, it was the _worst _possible idea to try and make a statement in such an environment, where emotions are already bubbling over the edge.

Sunset comes to mark the passage of time. There are golden streaks coming in through the windows, making the patients' wounds glitter with a morbid beauty – the flow of patients has all but stopped, and we're beginning to take turns to go and get ourselves a semblance of dinner. I let the woman who'd helped me through my breakdown earlier leave before me, smiling and nodding at her as I take off my gloves. Once she's out the door, I'm finally alone in a room full of moderately well-off patients. Sighing to dispel the tensions that have encroached on every single articulation in my body throughout the day, I try to get in touch with the energy that allows me to heal without materia.

It's something I haven't done yet, since there was such a rapid influx of patients that I couldn't spare the energy when so many needed attention. I'm standing in the middle of the room, facing the windows so that the brazen sunlight falls over my skin, helping to coax the energy out. It's there – it's unfurling in me, rocking from side to side, filling up my torso and trickling down my arms. I close my eyes as it creeps into my skull, eyelids trembling – it's a wonderful feeling, soothingly hot and pressing up against my skin like a benevolent outburst. Then it breaks out of my skin, and I extend my hands towards my patients so that they might partake in the ecstasy of it; my hands shake as the waves of energy go shuddering out of me, dissipating the patients' pain, closing their superficial wounds, healing all infections.

There are fingers closing around my wrist – I don't notice it until they grip me painfully and yank my arm up against my back, so that the magic dies around me like scintillating curtains dropping to the ground. I'm concentrating so hard that I automatically assume it's only a patient, but the grip is so strong and it _hurts – _but if it's not a patient, then who - ?

My eyes fly open.

_Oh.  
_

_Oh, Gaia!_

_**•**_

The leather squeaks against her skin as the scent of masculinity encroaches on the air around her. She's breathing heavily as her eyes widen with the pain and realization, stumbling back to try and relieve her arm. But the man's other hand is on her shoulder, and he steers her around so that she can see his partner.

Oh, how _wonderful;_ apparently she's being accosted by two fully-armed Soldier grunts on police duty.

"What- what are you doing?" The words skitter out through her chattering teeth, but they hardly even acknowledge her.

"You're coming with us, miss."

Some aids try to stop them as they lead her out of the room into the corridor, where everyone's taking a dinner break.

"Excuse me, sir - ?"

"This person is a fraud."

"She's been of precious help to us and the Soldiers." The protesting aid sounds like that same compassionate woman who'd helped Aeris out earlier; but Aeris can't even turn around to check since any movement sends jolts of pain up her arm. Her eyes are flying around wildly; she can't think, can't speak. _These are Sephiroth's men. _He couldn't be arresting her, could he? She knows she's in her right to be here, technically, but well - he has connections. She hadn't thought of that. She'd been so proud about him being the most important man in ShinRa; but instead of thinking of that quality as something to be proud of after catching his eye, she should've thought about the _consequences _and privileges that that granted him. Could it be that, if he's aggravated or if he simply doesn't like someone, he could just – _dispose_ of them? Does he have that power?

The questions and doubts circle in her head as the guards explain their right to take her away. It had been a bad idea to come here but she'd only redeemed herself in her mind, not in her actual presence_. _And she can't go back on it now. She should've left as soon as she saw him enter the premises. She should've left, she should've _left_.

The pain lancing through her shoulder and the slam of double-doors opening on the exterior forces Aeris back to reality, and she tenses up as the wind curls around her cheeks in a stingingly cold caress. She's practically being dragged down the metal stairway, each step whining in its rusted frame as they make their way down.

"I can walk by myself," she gasps. _This isn't happening. This can't be happening.  
_

"Can't risk it, miss," the grunt holding her says.

"I had _permission_ to be in there," Aeris tries to defend herself as her mind throws up a wall of defiance to protect her from outright panic.

"No you didn't," the grunt counters her, "A quick background check told us that you lied to the receptionist. You're not a nurse."

"A _background check_?" Ice is flowing freely through her veins in thick white lumps. Could it – could it be Hojo then? And not Sephiroth? It's a wonder she can keep the scream inside of herself; it rattles around her ribcage as she imagines the possibilities_._ "What did you find then?"

"That your actual job doesn't allow you this sort of activity."

"Is that all?" It comes out of her breathlessly. But the grunts only shift their hold on her, feet hitting cement as they make their way towards a car.

"Prostitution may be legal in Midgar," says the grunt, "But that doesn't mean it's legal for you to work another job at the same time."

She's too relieved to let the absurdity of this statement affect her. Her free hand comes up to her specimen tattoo automatically, feeling for the greasy layer of concealer, hoping against hope that it's still there. Then they're opening a car door, and the grunts are waiting for her to enter.

"Get in."

"Where are you taking me?" she asks them.

"Please, miss. We don't want any trouble."

"Are you arresting me?"

"We were only ordered to take you away from here."

"But - by _who?"_

She has to know. It _has _to be him. But the grunt takes her arm again, puts a hand on her head and forces her inside.

_**•**_


	8. Chapter 8

_Author's notes__: God. Took so long to decide to publish this because I couldn't figure out if it worked or not. So after the millionth rewrite I'm putting it out there before I spend another week trying to tweak it. Some feedback would be really helpful.  
**11.02 Edit:** Fixed a few grammatical errors/repetitions. Also made Aeris giggle rather than laugh her head off which seemed a bit much._

_Hugs to Halcyon Promise, Hazza, Erin, Chibitaryndemon, Nera, and InkiBlinki for the gorgeous reviews!_  
_Erin - First of all I really wanted to thank you for your consistent reviewing! Wow, I had no idea that scene would fall under the eyes of an actual, soon-to-be qualified nurse haha! I have no doubts that it's an incredibly hard job, I hope that scene didn't come across as too unrealistic. I pictured the "volunteering" as something much less complex and more like applying "first aid" than actually working alongside the true medics, otherwise as you said, Aeris would've been immediately exposed._

_Music__: Coeur de Pirate - Wicked Games (Robert Delarosa dubstep remix).  
_

* * *

_**Border of Taboo**_

**8**

• • •

Febrile eyes flickered up, lights cracking along the dilated pupils so that they resembled age-worn arrowheads. He could feel her angling them at him, aiming for his heart. She was a master of the game – even as she approached the age milestone that made it harder for her to appeal to a wider clientele, she remained the unquenchable huntress, every glance an estimation of her prey's strength, every move a calculated contribution to the take-down.

"What's your count?"

Delaine was sitting opposite her in the red and blue bowels of the Blue Dragon brothel. Veins snaked along the walls, throwing illusory webs over the girls' blue-tainted skin. She was tilting her pink champagne in its flute, eyes alternating between the aperitif's delicate hue and her guest's mismatched gaze.

"I'm not sure I understood the question," she said, a strange accent slurring her words as they slipped from between the eccentric rouge of her lips.

Delaine sighed, nodded at one of the boys who stood at either side of him. A hand slid onto the table, clenched around a pack of bills – the hooker looked up at him, lowered a starry eyelid at him in a rare wink, and collected the gift.

"Fifteen."

"All from ShinRa?"

The woman took a sip of the champagne, setting the flute down so that the lip-stained rim stared in her guest's direction.

"Yes."

"Would you divulge your employers or would it be a waste of breath to persuade you?"

She deigned to smile at this. "You know us, Markus."

"Alright." Delaine sat up, hands on his thighs in his trademark business posture. "I suppose you're familiar with what's happening, seeing how many _friends_ your Madam has in the higher circles of society. I'm here to enlighten you about a new and rather daunting project we have."

"This is about AVALANCHE, isn't it?"

"You know about them?" Seeing as this information was very new and he'd come by it through an endless string of contacts, he could hardly believe this woman already knew. Then again, this was the Blue Dragon. The whores and escorts had to be well-versed in the city's politics, seeing the clients they had – and the quasi-totality of the women had been hired for political ends during their career.

"The term was decided upon barely 24 hours ago," Delaine justified his incredulity when she stared him down, clearly insulted by how lightly he apparently took her.

"The nights have been very long," was all she said.

"That they have," Delaine replied with a polite smile, sipping his own champagne reflexively as if she'd intimidated him. It seemed slightly ridiculous to be afraid of a mere hooker – but this woman was of a different sort entirely. "Here's the deal. As you know, there have been radical anti-ShinRa activists ever since the first Mako reactor was erected – but none so organized as when the war on Wutai started. They didn't have enough weight during the last elections to offer anyone a better picture than what our President and his revolutionary power-source ideas presented. But a lot of things have changed since then. After four tyrannical mandates, you simply can't continue to step in the way of change. It'll crash past you like a ram batters down the doors of conservatism."

"Please," the hooker interrupted him, looking around herself with the haughtiest air imaginable. "Sex may be cheaper than politics, but at least your knowledge on the matter is never doubted." She leaned forwards, eyes spearing straight at her guests' before he could open his mouth. "I thought you knew who I was when you summoned me. You must know I'm escort to the president himself from time to time, so don't insult me. Even his close friends call him the 'little monarch' and he doesn't even seem to care - it's common knowledge that you and other Midgar underground leaders have helped him to corrupt the elections since the beginning, so no grand parables on that if you will." A conscientious sip of champagne. "Nobody is even on his side any more, except the upper class and those who directly depend on them, like us."

Delaine was nodding, clearly impressed. He'd already used girls from the Dragon for some shady business – he'd even involuntarily caused the deaths of one or two, but only because they threw themselves into the tasks he gave them as if their real game was intrigue and not mere sex work. Every time, their vigour had astonished him- though this was the first time that that same vigour shone through knowledge rather than action.

The hooker raked her almond-shaped nails across her hairline – her great mass of black hair had been twisted up in an elaborate system of crossing braids, giving her ears and neck a naked sensuality. Though, the bareness of her neck was slightly spoiled by the blurred black scales that were tattooed there, hugging her entire throat before continuing down her cleavage and over her shoulder-blades in a beautiful pectoral necklace.

"In the opposition's eyes, I only exist on the President's arm."

"That could work to our advantage," Delaine told her. But then her eyes flew through his in a clear look of defiance.

"How do you know I'm not actually on his side?"

"You're a prostitute," the man said automatically, straightening to better state his authority, "You don't have political opinions."

"You mean I _shouldn't_," smiled the woman, "Our little monarch is a despicable man, but he doesn't only fill the space between my legs. He fills my head. And my pockets."

"There are many men on the other side who could fill your pockets. AVALANCHE may be a slum movement, but they are echoed by organized groups up here who count more than one ShinRa head."

Surprisingly, the woman was laughing. "The world is turning upside-down, don't you think? Prostitutes wage radical political warfare while mafia leaders plant trees."

"You clearly don't understand anything if that's your assumption," Delaine said, irritation begin to seep through his normally polite façade.

"You have no opinion. I do," the woman stated in an almost condescending tone. "Just because you operate on money instead of morals doesn't mean everyone else does."

"You _siding_ with Shinra just states how money-based your own political opinion is," Delaine corrected her, "Don't try to make yourself sound so clever. In the end, I pay you to do a job, and you do it, end of story."

The hooker didn't lose her smile when he said this; she leaned back in her chair, bringing her champagne flute to her lips.

"So what are the activists offering you for you to be so loyal to them?" she spoke against the glass.

"I'm loyal to no one but myself," Delaine told her, "And that's none of your business."

"I'm only surprised that they would've approached _you_ of all people, in the last 24 hours."

"Well, think. Materia doesn't appear in a snap of the fingers." The man smugly adjusted his collar, letting his marvelous intelligence sink into this woman's mind.

But she was still smiling.

"Unlike political allegiances, I'm sure."

The level of smugness was making the air above the table positively fizzle; but he chose to ignore her. "Now, here's something you probably don't know," he said, reestablishing his vacillating credibility by actually teaching her something this time; "It seems that Lazard's boy has finally shown an interest in women."

"Sephiroth?" It hardly took her a second to switch from smug to genuinely curious. "That's impossible."

"I know, it's hard to believe after all our efforts. And she's from one the most obscure brothels imaginable, too." Delaine smiled, remembering the exchange he'd watched at the Shinra pup's gambling salon. "Try to guess which one."

The woman sighed. Her pride was already wounded enough with the realization that her colleagues' efforts hadn't been repelled because of absolute indifference on that man's part, but because of an actual system of preference that she would never have guessed existed.

"She's not a Genteel is she?" The Gentility was the least regulated rat-hole in all the Upper city. It would be an insult to lose to that kind of girl.

"Worse," Delaine said, "She's not even on the plate."

"She's a _slum girl_?"

"And I believe that's what lost her the game, since she overstepped the boundaries last time I saw her interact with him." The hooker's self-satisfied expression took over the horror that had instilled itself on her face as he said this. "As far as we know, maybe it was nothing. Maybe he has a taste for the uneducated. But he's shown that he's not totally impervious to women. Which means the game is on."

The hooker looked almost flattered at what he might be implying; she'd never tried her hand at the General, simply because she'd never felt the need, having a full agenda of bookings by the most affluent men of Midgar. And, in her mind the game was over before having even started with that man, seeing how many girls bore his insufferably cruel refusals. She hadn't even considered him as a challenge since there had never been any visible prize after so much effort.

But now there was.

Trying to water down her excitement at the prospect, the hooker thought back on the conversation.

"So what does the act of deflowering the General got to do with change?"

Delaine gave her an enigmatic smile. "Everything."

• • •

Aeris doesn't even recognize the building before standing right in the corridor, face up against the shiny number plaque on the door. They'd driven for so long that she'd started thinking they were actually taking her out of Midgar or something; an hour of despairing speculation later, and here she is, still wearing her grimy clothes and volunteer tag. The grunts ring a bell, and there's an electronic _click_ that signals the door opening.

"In you go," the grunts say, giving her a little push. She all but stumbles inside, hands up against the door to stabilize herself as it swings inward.

The sight of that enormous apartment greets her, and the luxury of it punches her in the stomach a second time – though now, the feeling is saturated with a heavy dread. The blinds are half-drawn, and she can see a figure reclining in an armchair, silhouette cutting up the golden shafts of sunlight that peek in through the interstices. There are whorls of smoke uncurling in the golden air, seeping up from a cigarette that the man holds between two fingers.

"Dismissed," he says, and the grunts nod before leaving her side, shutting the door behind them. She hears the _click_ of the automatic lock, and her heart just about fails her.

The seconds trickle by; the air is dense with sugar-tainted tobacco, and the scent brings her panic-attack back to mind as the haze swallows her slight body.

She knows exactly why she's here – but she has no idea how to react. Should she – say something? Surely he expects an apology - after all what else could she be here for, if not to apologize and accept some type of punishment?

"Come here." The sunlight glaring through the blinds makes it impossible for her to look in his direction – she keeps her eyes downcast as she steps forwards, her insides quivering like jelly with every step. Her feet sink into the carpet where he'd held her a mere 48 hours earlier, and in a few more steps, a few more jerks of the heart, she's standing in front of him at a safe distance, keeping the coffee table between them. Of course, _safe_ would mean the other side of the Planet right now – but it's the best she can do without disobeying him.

Silence again. He's observing her, the only sound being his soft, smoky exhale.

"I'm so sorry," she lets out, so wound up that it comes out in one breath. She's looking at her toes, her stance screaming of childish shame.

He lets a few more seconds trickle by before saying;

"No you aren't."

His voice is impossibly husky, reminding her of the earlier impression of his exhaustion; but instead of it stirring pity in her, she finds that the sensuality of it adds a whole new scope of intimidation. Undeterred, perhaps believing him to still possess some shred of understanding, she tries again;

"I didn't know you'd be there. I - "

"Of course I was there," he drawls, clearly denouncing the stupidity of her statement. "And you must think me an idiot if you think I'll believe you weren't there for the specific purpose of putting yourself in my line of sight."

He's talking too eloquently – too many words – she only registers the deep quality of his voice, transcribing as a menacing growl in her mind.

"I saw what you're capable of," he goes on while she stands there pathetically, "Explain."

Silence. She has to – reply to him? She thinks. "It's a gift in my family."

"Alright." He says it immediately, as if she could've said anything and it wouldn't have affected him otherwise. "Do you believe this _gift_ makes you better than most women of your kind?"

"No – no, I - "

"Yes you do," he makes her mind up for her again, and before she can contradict him he goes on; "You believe you have an advantage. That whatever minuscule ability you possess allows you to rise above the predestined constraints of those who must subjugate their human dignity for the sake of money. This line of thought is, of course, utterly wrong."

Suffice to say that Aeris understands _nothing_ of what is being said.

"Do you understand?"

_Nope._ But he apparently doesn't care whether she understands or not, because the next thing he does is casually take a drag, expel the chalky white clouds from his lungs, and resume his insistent stare.

"Take off your clothes."

"_What_?"

Did – did he really just- ? Aeris can't help looking up at him then, but the sun burns her eyes before she can get any further than a pair of violet, wine-stained lips. Why would he, of all people, ask her to do that? She's still sorting out through the possible interpretations as her hands come up to her tank top – but then something, perhaps a certain salutary notion of self-worth, stills her fingers.

"Why?" It's a just question. But -

"I just explained why," her captor tells her quite conversationally. She stares around herself, trying to remember what he'd been talking about that she'd been too busy zoning out due to sheer panic to apprehend. But she has to defend herself somehow - strangely enough in this horrendous situation, the defense comes to her as quickly as with any man on the street.

"I don't work for free."

"You don't charge for exhibition," he counters her smoothly.

"How would you know?" Her heart bruises her ribs as she allows herself to talk back to him.

"Do you really think I'm naïve enough to be ignorant of how this works?"

"It's not a question of being naïve," she says, inwardly applauding her calm tone, "There's a code you have to respect, and it's different for every brothel."

"Really?" He leans forwards in a suave creak of leather. "Tell me then."

She can hardly believe that after a day like today, he might want this – or even expect her to still be willing to work after seeing countless bloodied horrors pass through her hands. She nevertheless obeys him, feeling unnerved by how calm he is after having her dragged across half of Midgar to his apartment.

"Well," she stammers, "There's a price for everything. You have to state exactly what you want to do. And then I calculate the price."

"How sad," he says, "That doesn't leave any room for improvisation."

"As long as you've paid for whatever extras you want, you can improvise all you like."

"What are these _extras_ then?"

She looks up, hardly believing that the customary questions are coming from _this _man. And then suddenly, as she tries to fight the humiliation of enumerating every sexual act she charges in front of one of the most illustrious men she'll ever meet, she finally realizes that that's the whole point of this strange meeting; humiliation. He's trying to make her feel the shame of her profession. To put her back in her place. The disgust that was beginning to well up inside of her begins to find a new orientation than herself, and she holds her head a little higher.

"Anything that isn't basic penetration."

"So exhibition counts?"

"Yes."

She's lying about that, but then again she's not going to allow him any liberties if he's actually willing to play the game. She can't believe her eyes as she notes an arm moving towards the coffee table – she's here, completely at his mercy, and yet he's still playing the customer? He should be taking her against a wall by now instead of discussing _prices_. Then again, perhaps he thinks that money only makes the act that much worse for her.

He takes out a handful of bills from a table drawer, scatters them on the table surface, and reclines again.

"I'll ask again. Take off your clothes."

"That's very generous of you," she says slowly, daring to push her apparent authority a little further when her eyes catch the three-digit numbers on each bill, "But I'm afraid I don't work freelance. You'll need my employer's approval."

The rustle of leather slices through her confidence as he gets up from the armchair, figure blotting out the sunlight. Her budding self-confidence completely withers away as she sees him stepping around the coffee table and making for her. _Oh, Crisis, Crisis –_ her foot wanders back but he's got a hand at her throat before she can go anywhere, and he makes her back away until she hits a wall, eyes squeezing shut as the pain spears through her shoulders and spine.

"I don't need anyone's approval," he hisses at her, lips moving at a hair-width's distance from her cheek, "Not even _yours_, and you know that."

"I – I - " She can't think, can only feel each of his fingers as they dig into the tendons of her throat, his breath loaded with tobacco and sweet wine brushing against her cheek.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he says with a mocking tone of apology, "Is there a price for strangulation?"

She can only fight for breath as he pins her there, her mind empty of all rhetoric, and she cries out in mindless fear as he rips her top apart in a violent yank. The shrill sound of tearing fabric fuels her panic, and she freezes as that hand travels lower to work on her belt buckle.

"There is, actually," she manages to gasp out, tears creeping from the corners of her eyes.

"Oh? I should've known," the man says, and a second later she's got a wad of bills between her fingers and he's pulling the belt from around her hips. Belt in one hand, he releases her throat and takes a step back to observe his handiwork: she's flushed and panting, tears scattered over her cheeks like dewy pearls as she looks up at him.

"I believe I'm doing the work for you," he states, "Undress yourself."

She's breathing hard as she tries to sustain his gaze. Without another word, her hands come up to rid her shoulders of the wasted tank top, and he watches her insolently as she reaches back to unclasp her bra. She can practically feel the heat of his gaze on her skin as the cups fall away from her breasts, and she's sobbing with the confusion of it all as she leans forwards to pull down her trousers.

Once she's standing there trying to hide her intimacy with both hands, he motions for her to sit on the coffee table before heading back to his armchair. She follows him, the cold making goosebumps erupt over her naked skin. She can't believe this is still happening – it has to be some kind of dream, it just feels too _strange_. Every single attitude or trait he's put on show up till now has clearly spoken for his disdain in regard to sex workers, or even sex in general. So why this manhandling – why this manipulation? Why would he go to so many lengths just to punish someone as insignificant as her… She sits down in front him, table edge cutting into her backside as she keeps her spine straight and her eyes down, heart banging away at the awkwardness of the situation.

He sits back, lighting his cigarette with one hand, the flare lighting up his eyes. She takes in the sight before her although it physically hurts her to do so – his control over her is so inescapable that to look at him is to accept this as reality, to accept that it's all really happening. His legs are clad with leather, and a black shirt covers his torso; moonlight strands settle on the black in contrasting lines. She inadvertently follows those lines up, past the bare throat, the stained lips, up further to those heavy-lidded eyes that squint slightly as he inhales.

He looks straight at her, blowing the smoke in her direction. Again, his eyes burn a path across her nakedness as he leisurely looks her up and down.

"Spread your legs," he commands. Her throat is constricting and there's a heat rising to her face, but she's forced to comply, the sound of tearing fabric still ringing in her ears. Her skin peels away from the cold surface of the table as she obediently opens her thighs, eyes resolutely lowering to stare at the folds in the leather couch as she leans back to allow him a better view. She shouldn't be so skitterish and nervous about being exposed – with anyone else, taking off her clothes and putting herself in certain positions is just a mandatory step. But, this isn't normal procedure, for one - and it's hardly comforting that the only thing standing between this situation and downright rape is the sheer _tact _of one of the most dangerous men in the world. The cool room temperature bites at her exposed skin, and she blushes furiously as he leans forwards, closer to her. The cold is promptly replaced by a hot gush of air as he exhales in the direction of her womanhood, and she can't help gasping softly at the unexpected sensation.

The smoke curls along her inner thighs and she turns her head a fraction, watching him as he feasts his eyes on her. He's looking at every dip and curve of her body with a thoroughness that would've betrayed a certain hunger if his gaze hadn't been so indifferent.

"Touch yourself," he orders her, and though it's uttered in an intimate murmur, it sends her pulse into another frenzy. She's never been good at that stuff; the men are always too busy trying to please her or take from her what they will to bother using up their time with erotic frivolities like that. She tries to remind herself of Gem's words, that she's a _professional_, that it's going to be ok… her sweaty palms unstick from the tabletop, and she closes her eyes. She sits a little straighter as she starts trailing her trembling fingertips along her thighs, a part of her still screaming at the awkwardness of it all, though the professional habit is fortunately starting to take over the panic. She wouldn't have thought that nervousness could contribute to arousal but, however nightmarish the situation, she finds that the tingle following her fingers is even more stimulating than usual, and that the lances of pleasure shooting through her core whenever she skims an erogenous zone are almost overpowering. She doesn't even notice the heavy breathing that escapes between her lips as she makes her hands roam over her body, palms brushing against each puckered nipple, fingers gliding over the warm junction between her legs. It's probably due to the adrenaline, and her erratic pulse – she can't believe how responsive her body is when she's half out of her mind with fear.

There's a warmth unfurling over her bare breasts, and she opens an eye to see white, sugary smoke caressing her skin. Sephiroth is staring at her with that same deranging indifference, halfway between disdain and lust, every breath dragging a red-hot glow further up his cigarette.

"How much to touch you?" he asks her in that same throaty voice, and once again she can hardly believe how efficiently his voice is arousing her even though every command is supposed to bring her closer to the humiliation he wants to inflict on her. He _kidnapped_ her for Planet's sake –and he threatened rape just a few minutes earlier! What the hell is she doing being _turned on_ by him? She's not really turned on of course – it's only fear. She breathes in, wondering how the hell this could ever happen in the first place.

"It depends where you touch me," she manages to say, "And what you mean by 'touch'."

He straightens, moving so that he's on the edge of his own seat. The proximity is making the blood sing in her veins as silky strands of hair come to tickle her thighs, and then there's an icy hand against the warmth of her inner thigh and she almost cries out at the sudden contact.

"This is what I meant," he says, lips moving so close to her forehead that she's beginning to feel delirious as his hand moves towards her center.

"You pay first," she says, moving so that the contact is broken. There's a whisper of paper against paper, and then the edges are chafing against the sensitive skin between her breasts as he trails more notes down her chest. She brings her hands up to grasp the notes, fingers brushing against his, hardly daring to look up at him as he leans back a little to contemplate her: she looks pathetically vulnerable with arms against her chest clutching her notes like children hold their treasures safe. His knees are pressing against hers, forcing her legs wider apart, and he looks at her intently as he follows the light abdominal crease that runs down her belly to her hips. Then his fingertips are as feather-light as hers had been on the bare skin of her mound, and he stops just at the top of the slit, lingering contact infuriating her.

"Look at me," he says, and she grudgingly complies, lifting her eyes to that blackened mouth. The lips curl in the corners, before parting again as he adds, "Further up." No. No, she can't do that. She can't look at him in the eye even in normal circumstances, so if he thinks she's physically capable of sustaining that gaze while he -

His fingertips dip between her lips, and she's shocked into looking up, getting caught in that supremely disdainful gaze as the cold of his fingers spreads across her delicate centre. She shifts as he presses a phalange against the bud topping her entrance, and she holds back a cry when he slips a finger into her, slowly, _so_ slowly. When he's up to the knuckle he presses cruelly at that spot deep inside her, and her muscles clench around him as she shivers with the unwanted pleasure of it.

"Look at me," he insists when her eyes slip away, brow furrowing as she puts all her effort into remaining silent. It's like she can't even register how wrong this is; her blood is rushing through her body at such a speed that no coherent thought has the time to form. And it's simply impossible to look at him while he – while he touches her like that. But then his free hand is against her cheek, and he forces her to turn her head, looming impossibly close though the only contact between them is his hands on her cheek and between her legs. She forces herself to look up, moss-green flickering up to look at him almost accusingly. Then a second finger is probing her entrance, and before she can protest he's stretching her, entering her, and it takes all her concentration to hold his gaze as he circles his knuckles against her with an agonizing rhythm.

She lets a sigh escape her as the blush threatens to melt her cheeks, and for a fleeting moment she's reminded of Gem telling her off for not going anywhere physical with the man – that even though this is all so twisted beyond redemption, there is a gleam of victory in it, at least in the eyes of her fellow workers. But then the thought collapses as his fingers find her throat, and her breath hitches as his thumb flicks against the overly sensitive bud, lost in the soaking midst of her folds. The scent of wine on his breath is making her head spin and she leans towards him without thinking, the pleasure between her legs begging to be maximized by something more adequate.

Fingertips brushing against her nape, he whispers, "How much for penetration?"

"Why do you keep asking me that?" she can't help saying, half-sobbing for the pleasure and shame of wanting relief so badly; "You know you can take what you want."

He tuts disapprovingly, removing his fingers in such a fluid motion that she's left reeling. "That's very unprofessional of you," he tells her. "It's not my intention to take anything from you freely."

The cold between her legs after the initial pulse of desire is soothing enough for her to come back to her senses. "Five thousand," she tells him, knowing full well that she's never charged so much for basic penetration and that the sum is ridiculous enough for him to stop playing around and just get it over and done with. But to her utter amazement he just smiles – _smiles_ at her with that demonic mouth curling at the corners like burning leaves, and she's so enrapt by that cracked texture that she almost doesn't notice the bills falling down her chest.

He leans back and she takes the hint, getting up and stepping forwards before sliding a thigh on either side of his, straddling him. The leather against her thighs is cold and unreal, just like this absurd closeness. Just as her hands come down to work on the buttons of his trousers, his earlier statement hits her as nonsensical – did he really think he wasn't _taking _something from her, all physical transactions put aside? She could state her own sanity, for one.

"You_ are_ taking things from me freely." She's thinking out loud, half-hoping he won't pick up on what she's saying, as if just saying it would validate her principle. He looks up at her.

"Oh? Like what, for example?"

"Like my right to work in anything else than sex," she dares to accuse him, buttons undone.

"You don't have that right," he tells her as if it's the simplest notion in the world.

"My dignity, too," she goes on, contemplating the bulge upon which her lily-white fingers are resting.

"I believe I've paid for that," he says with an egotistical assurance.

"No – you stole it when you _kidnapped_ me," she rectifies, every word he utters heightening the temperature of her boiling blood.

"How inconsiderate of me. I thought that we'd established that _dignity_ meant the capacity to live without selling our bodies to any random passerby with a big purse," he positively sneers at her, and she has to hold back from slapping him.

"Our dignity is our freedom," she snaps. "Freedom of choice."

"Freedom of fucking for a living," he murmurs with an enragingly seductive tone, "Such a dignified choice."

"Yes, because killing for a living is an infinitely more dignified choice, isn't it."  
_Aeris. What are you doing. SHUT UP. _But she can't – the insults are too big, and the contradiction too tempting. She removes herself, standing in front of him, completely in the nude and without a care in the world.

He's looking up at her, green meeting green, and it looks like every word that leaves her mouth adds to either his irritation or his curiosity. Or perhaps both.

"You might want to think about what you're doing," he warns her, but she's too far gone in her defiance to stop now.

"If you think you're humiliating me, you're wrong," she all but growls at him, "You're the one who said there was nothing indecent about the human body."

"You remember that?"

"Of course I do."

"So you _do_ understand what comes out of my mouth sometimes."

She finds herself glaring at him, forgetting all fear in the presence of an unprecedented bout of anger. "You're the only one here who has a problem with the base financial transaction of sex. You can have me in any way you want – you still won't be making any kind of statement."

He would've frozen her insides with that look if she hadn't been so hot-blooded. But then in a blur he gets up, and there's a vivid sting running through her cheekbone - her head snaps to the side, the motion forcing the rest of her body to follow the movement, and in the next second her entire flank crashes against something hard and prickly. The impact knocks the breath of her, and it's only when she opens her eyes that she realizes she's fallen on the carpet, at the foot of the coffee table.

There's a stir of leather and he's straddling her, a hand on her shoulder pushing her roughly so that she rolls onto her back. The blinding_ pain_ in the side of her face brings the fear rushing back as she feels his hands on her hips angling her as easily as if she weighed less than a child.

"_No!"_ It bursts out of her, testament to her desperation.

"Still not making a statement?" he growls at her, and her hands come up to shield her face. "Let me rephrase."

"Please, _please - "_

_"_Don't pretend this wasn't your goal all along." He's pressing against her - she contracts in anticipation. "I'm only following your lead." The heat that surges through her core as he penetrates her is almost too much to bear – she cries out in fear, only just lubricated enough to ease his passage. He's on his knees, hands digging into her hips as he lifts her to meet his own, and the position allows him to bury himself so deep inside her that she can only gasp for breath at the sensation. Her entire body is arched up, one hand grasping at the edge of the coffee table and the other on his wrist as if it could stop him. Her thighs automatically curl around his waist to relieve her back, and every slow rock of the hips sends her into a world of ecstatic torment. A naked thigh comes up against his side in the confusion, and he lowers her hips to the floor, an arm coming to lock her leg against him as he continues to take her with at an infuriatingly slow pace.

She's writhing against the bristles of the carpet, every little strand scraping against her skin, contrasting harshly with the smoothness of his skin against hers – she's panting too hard to plead, heart knocking a frantic code against her ribs that she doesn't care to decipher as she instinctively fights against him. But every move she makes only seems to contribute to her entanglement, and the next thing she knows, his elbows drop at either side of her head and the hardness of his stomach is pressing against hers, hips digging into her skin at every thrust.

She hadn't noticed when he'd taken off his shirt – the irresistible crush of his body weight only adds to the sense of violation, though the silken quality of his skin against hers and his musky scent seem to take the edge off of her panic. He doesn't seem to notice her digging her nails into his back, slashing at him – she's sure she's breaking skin, but she could just be embracing him for all his lack of response.

She'd never experienced someone filling her as thoroughly as this; he's deliciously hard and her muscles seem to take no heed of her aversion, clamping down on him so that she's acutely aware of his outline inside of her. He's not looking at her, mouth parted as though he hadn't been expecting her to respond to him even if it's involuntary; but then he thrusts too deep and a sigh escapes her, attracting his attention.

She can feel his breath on her mouth, can smell the wine again – she opens her eyes, hands coming up to tangle in his hair, and she yanks at it in a change of tactic – this time he acknowledges the pain, and it forces him to unconsciously follow the movement, throat extending as his head comes up. But then he's jerked his head to the side, freeing himself of her hands, and he responds by letting go of her legs and grabbing her wrists instead. He tries to pin them at either side of her head, but she's wriggling in his grip, slender enough to escape him – with a grunt of effort he slides an arm under her back and hoists her up, so that he's sitting on his ankles and she's straddling him. He takes advantage of the position to lock one of her wrists behind her back, so that the familiar pain lances through her shoulder, making her cry out again.

"You _bastard_," she hisses through clenched teeth, body unconsciously undulating with each of his movements. She's panting with the effort of resisting him, perspiration beginning to make her skin a little sticky as she tries to free her arm. The leather of his trousers is soothingly cool against the underside of her thighs, but every thrust makes her skin rip away from it painfully as she moves with him.

"Do you understand now?" he breathes against her throat, free hand holding her against him.

"There's nothing to understand," she spits at him, too caught up in defending herself to be afraid of speaking her mind - and he yanks her arm further up in response. She yells with the pain, and it awakens something in her; she knocks her free hand against his chest, pushing against him. And before she knows it, something is surging along her veins, and fire _explodes_ from her palm. The magic streams down from the materia she'd completely forgotten about, and he jerks back with nothing more than a mere grunt of pain as the strands of fire writhe across his pectoral muscles. She looks at him – he looks more surprised than livid, but then his eyes meet hers and his free hand comes up to wrench the materia from her hair, ripping away her hair-tie in the process. Her neck strains back in the movement, eyes squeezing shut; long chestnut strands fall apart, fanning over her back and tumbling over her shoulders as she hears the materia rolling away across the floor. Then she's on her back again, hair spreading in a messy circle around her, and he's ravaging her, thrusting too deep and too forcefully for it to be bearable. She feels as if he's tearing her, as if she's somehow far too tight to accommodate him - pleasure begins to be eclipsed by pain, and she can only hold onto him around the neck and try to take it.

He lets her cradle his head as he drives himself towards ecstasy, anger deliciously fuelling him, the will to take this woman apart too strong to be overcome by the initial statement he wanted to make.

"If this is a lesson in morality," she whispers, lips against his ear moving as furtively as butterfly wings, "Then you're the one on the receiving end."

"I don't think so," he tells her in a heavy breath, before pushing against the carpet so that he's looming over her in all his muscular splendor, hair sticking like a silver sheen to his skin, breathing a little heavily as he stares down at her. "This is all you are, Chimera. A sexual doll. A being of undiluted lust." He buries himself to the hilt and her mouth parts as her breath escapes her lungs. "Don't ever presume to be anything more."

"_Please,_" she cries out in a strangled voice, taking his wrists and digging her head back into the carpet. The pain is tearing her apart – she feels like she's about to faint from how it's building inside her. After what feels like forever he lowers his chin, eyes fluttering shut and mouth parting with the bliss as he reaches climax; a hand comes down to clutch one of her folded legs against him, and he shivers, holding onto her as the waves crash through his body.

He stays in that position for a few long seconds, panting against her knee and keeping his eyes shut as though he needs to recover. Then he mercifully pulls out of her, making her wince as the cold air greets her inflamed nether regions. She hardly has enough strength to drag her legs away from him, pushing herself up to a sitting position with difficulty. She can't even close her thighs without contributing to the pulsing burn between her legs.

He's on his feet a moment later, buttoning his trousers and staring down at her with an undecipherable expression. It's been a while since the sun sank beneath the horizon – the blue lights of the city line his imposing frame, instilling a curious blue shine in his eyes.

"Go wash yourself," he orders her in an oddly tired voice, "The bathroom's over there."

•

Her mind is a blank slate as she staggers to her feet, making her way blindly towards the appointed room and shutting herself in the glass case of the shower. Her entire body aches; when the hot water hits her skin she lets out an unconscious sigh of relief as it pummels her sore muscles. She slides down the shower wall, sitting on the cool white tiles with her knees coming up in a childish pose. A hand comes up to test her cheekbone and the arch of her eyebrow; she winces at the electric jolts that skitter across her skull at the contact. She's staring into space, hesitantly probing at different parts of her body – and then when she absently looks down and sees the red in the swirling water, she starts trembling, hugging her knees against her even though the action makes her thighs close painfully around the searing point between her legs.

_It's ok. It was nothing, really. Nothing more than what I'm used to. _But her reasoning is hollow, and she can hardly distinguish the heat of her tears against her cheeks and the scalding water beating down her. She's trying to hold the wall against her thoughts, pushing against it, but the more she tries to shut them up the more they seep past her defenses. Did she deserve this? _Yes, _is what her inner voice screams at her. She did go looking for trouble, didn't she? It was her fault. _Stupid, stupid! _She's been so arrogant. Humiliation sinks its fangs into her heart as she remembers how she talked back to the man – what in the world made her think she was in her rights to talk to a man of that importance with so much disrespect? What in the world made her think that she stood a _chance?_

She's bowing her head as the thoughts invade her, giving in to the feeling of utter worthlessness, so much so that a long stretch of time goes by before she manages to reach out of the negative spiral and climb back into the conscious world.

She can't face going out of this shower. Not now. Not after all the mistakes she's made. A senseless fear grips her, and she feels like there are a multitude of creatures dancing a giddy dance in her ribcage; if she goes out, not only is there the world to face, but _him_ too. The apartment seems like an entire ocean that she has to get across before she can escape – she closes her eyes, rocking back and forth unconsciously as she tries to pull herself out of the whirring stress that is steadily taking control of her. It's not that far. It won't be that hard to get out of here. She only has to get a grip and try to think sensibly. She's been through worse. She'll get through this.

In the second that follows her slight regain of confidence, her instincts tell her that she's not alone - her thoughts screech to a halt and she snaps her head up.  
He's on the other side of the glass.

She doesn't even think – her body moves by itself, arms coming out to pull herself into a corner of the shower. Shampoo bottles clatter across the tiles as she presses her sore back against the coolness of the wall, staring hard at the figure who's slowly opening the glass panel; she's breathing heavily, unable to look away, as if looking at him hard enough will create an impenetrable wall between them – or better still, make him disintegrate and so end the nightmare.  
He's crouching at the entrance of the shower so that he's at her height. He looks inquisitive, as if he's confused that she'd react like that upon seeing him. _I thought you had a stronger will than what I'm used to, _he'd said. The nail-prints in his wrists attest to that, but she certainly doesn't feel so strong now. And besides, he'd been putting thoughts into her head since the beginning; perhaps she just wasn't living up to his expectations, wasn't fulfilling the proper role that he'd imagined she'd play in tonight's game. Had he seriously thought that she was so unshakeable? That she was confident enough to just get up again, dusting her hands and acting like it was a perfectly normal booking? She might show a rare arrogance from time to time, but she always thought it was transparent enough for most people to see just how much sensibility it covers up.

A few seconds go by. Dark flecks of humidity appear on his clothes as the water reaches him, but he doesn't seem to notice. Then he sighs, and to her horror he begins approaching her, reaching towards her – she gulps down one last breath as she tenses up, feeling the imaginary lash against her skin – the shower is too small for her to avoid him, try as she might to squeeze between the tiles on the wall. One hand slides between her sopping thighs, and she turns her face to the wall in disgust – then, unexpectedly, there's a strangely soothing sensation pooling from his palm as he spreads the tips of his fingers over her lower belly. She feels the burn ebbing away as the micro-lesions between her legs close up, and a few seconds later the pain has all but vanished – she can't repress a small sigh of relief, still facing the wall.

He retracts his hand, and she forces herself to look over at him.

"Look," he says gruffly, not meeting her eye, "I'm sorry." He reaches back, scooping his great white mass of hair with one arm and heaving it distractedly over one shoulder while she stares at him mutely, waiting for his next unexpected move. Rape, cure – and then what, rape again? Just for the fun of it? _You're a madman_, her eyes seem to scream at him, and it's apparently difficult for him to look at her in the face.

"Come out of there, the water will go cold soon."

He straightens up, throws one lingering glance in her direction, and walks away.

•

One toe, and then another. A leg, crowned by a mottled knee and bruised hip. Part by part her body reappears in the living room; she's wrapped up in a towel, eyes looking around herself like a trapped animal. _What's he planning to do now?_

He's standing in his kitchen, and there's the sound of pouring water; he turns his head to the side when she steps forwards.

"I found something for you." A nod at the sofa. "Get dressed."

Planet, what's he playing at? Heart thumping, she looks around the room to see with what she's supposed to be getting dressed since he effectively tore her last set of clothes to shreds. There's a simple black dress draped over the cursed armchair, and for a minute she wonders how a man like that could possess a lady's garment if she was supposedly the first lady to ever see his interior design, as Genesis so charmingly put it. It would've been nice to become familiar with it in other circumstances, she's sure.

Warily, she goes over to the dress and tries to contort her arms so that the towel still covers her while she slips the dress over her head, having absolutely no reason to trust him in the slightest.

She stands behind the couch nervously, eyes flickering to the door every two seconds as he potters around in his kitchen. Then he turns around, a steaming mug clutched in one hand.

"Tea?"

... she stares at him. Stares some more. Then to her dismay the tension comes bubbling out of her in a nervous giggle – she represses the urge to clamp a hand to her mouth to banish the inappropriate expression of mirth, her smile digging painfully into the bruised half of her face.  
He's come to the coffee table, where he sets his mug down and proceeds to stare at her coolly until she offers an explanation.

"It's just," she manages to say, the sensible part of her brain trying hard to slap some sense back into her, "You rape me, and then you offer me_ tea_."

"Don't say that," he says with his old sternness, looking over at her sharply. "I didn't rape you."

She knows she doesn't even have to say anything for the absurdity of his statement to hit him. So she just looks at him as he stands there almost hesitantly.

"It wasn't rape," he insists, sitting down on the sofa.

"Oh." And here she was thinking he was confident enough in his dominant role to take responsibility for whatever deranged act he might play out. She edges away from him and forces herself to perch at least on the armrest when he motions for her to sit down, her gut obliging her to obey him and not cause any more trouble.

"Like I said." He leans over to take his mug. "It was a lesson."

Silence. She looks at the coffee table, suddenly noticing that the scattered notes are all gathered in one great wad, held together by a black ribbon. The wad is sitting atop Zack's folded trousers next to her petty fire materia. Even the belt is set in the loops again.

"I trust you understood it."

"Yes," she breathes, feeling his presence in the corner of her eye as heavily as if she were crushed between him and the floor again.

"Have you learnt your place?"

"Yes."

Anything, anything for him to stay in his calm and apparently sobered mood. Just long enough for her to be able to escape intact.  
He sighs. Sips at his mug. Surely he can feel her nervousness making ripples in the air. She fidgets, waits for her courage to make surface before opening her mouth – but he fulfills her request without even needing her to ask.

"You can go."

She gets up as though loosened from a crossbow, gathering up her things up against her chest and bolting over to the entrance to slip into her shoes. Her heart is racing at the idea of her imminent freedom – but then as she feels him coming closer to her she shrinks back against the wall, hugging her things against her like a shield.

He glances at her with another one of his inquiring gazes, before inserting a key in order to get rid of the automatic locking mechanism. And she slips under his arm without further ado, disappearing into the corridor and leaving him with the lingering contact of her head against his arm, and a whiff of vanilla perfume.

• • •

Both women start upon seeing the waif that exits the night train, stepping out into the windy darkness of the slum station. They can't decide whether they should give her space or rush to meet her; the wind is whipping her loose hair into a great black banner, and the dim white lamplight touches her cheekbones, throwing her eyes into shadow.

Hegemony is the first to snap out it; she strides across the platform and firmly takes the girl's arm, asking her if she's alright, reaching to tilt her chin up so that her face might meet the light – and her eyes widen as she sees that the black around the girl's eye wasn't just shadows. Speckles of red and violet run along her left cheekbone, arching up over her eyebrow and reaching one side of her nose. The colour gains in density and veers to black as it reaches her lowered eyelid, and the popped veins in her eye are making the green even clearer, as though she'd gone blind.

Harmony takes her other arm, making Aeris wince.

"What's up with the fucking cryptic - texts - where the fuck have you been?" The words fly from her mouth, clearly contained since several hours; "Boss has been mad with worry about you."

Gem looked over at her exasperatedly. "I told you, she was at the hospital - "

"Shut up, just – stop reminding me what a fucking lousy friend you are."

"She's a free woman, Harmony. I wasn't going to just stop her."

"You could've advised her _not_ to play the kamikaze instead of getting all drunken-patriotic and pushing her into harm's way."

"Harmony. Just take a look, will you?"

A sharp intake of breath. "Tell me who did this, and I swear - " Harmony starts, so angry she can't even unclench her teeth to say that, but then she notices the smile on Aeris' lips.

"I had him," the girl says, practically laughing though there's a suspicious glitter on her cheeks, "I had Sephiroth."

• • •


	9. Chapter 9

_Author's notes: Hugs to Hazza (thanks for sticking around so long, man!), Jean, Nera, darling Erin, Guests, the wonderful Chibi, melissal and HouseofTudor! You guys completely spoil me. Please do continue. :D  
Those of you who want Aeris to get back at him - you'll see! Oh yes. You will see...  
Guest - Your observations were very accurate - I was hoping the scene would bring to mind a "power struggle/power play" so it made me really happy that you just up and summarized the scene exactly as I wanted! And you're right, neither got out of there quite unscathed. Did he see the tattoo? Or didn't he? Hm...  
Erin - I know, it's hard to try and write a realistically "cruel" character because ultimately, he'll be capable of showing a very affectionate side to those he elects as his equals, while at the same time having a potential of totally unacceptable behaviour. And yes, I'm more the type to write an inherently cruel Sephiroth than bend to the whole "Jenova influence" thing, to me it's far less interesting psychologically._

_Make yourselves profiles guys, so that I can try to respond to everyone (I've been neglecting replying to those who have accounts because the chapters just take so much work, and I prefer focussing all my effort on delivering). Interactivity inside the chapters is kind of frowned upon on ffnet._  
_Next chapter is half-done since I broke this one up again._

_Music: The fabulous Buika for Aeris' parts (La Bohemia, Soledad); "Tango in Harlem- Touch and Go" for Gem's part; "Bendik- Forsvinne" for the rest._

* * *

_**Border of Taboo**_

**9**

• • •

Boss had listened to her tale gravely, not even hurrying her along when the pauses stretched between each painful reminiscence. He'd gotten up from his desk, put both hands on her shoulders and said a string of words about how intensely stupid it had been to put herself in the General's path for the sole purpose of a completely unprofessional, pseudo-moral crusade. She'd nodded, knowing that she didn't even need him to verbalize what she already felt and that she'd never do anything so godawfully mindless again. But then he'd started saying something about how proud he was of her despite all of that, and she'd finally broken down into shuddering peals of tears; he'd hugged her briefly, just an arm around her shoulders to stay decent, telling her she had the rest of the night off.

Hegemony had graciously accepted to teach her how to apply the dainty white creams and powders to cover her bruised face before going home to Elmyra.  
"In daylight you'd look like someone just smashed a cream pie in your face," the woman had told her with one of her spikey grins, "But at nighttime it's not too obvious." The cold dab of cream, the dry rasp of the powder puff against her cheek, and the smoothing out to blend make-up and natural skin colour had sent the worst of headaches coursing through her skull, but Aeris had sucked it up, knowing she'd have to do this before every single booking for a while now. She'd long debated whether to heal herself or not, but something made her want the bruise to fade away naturally, as though every dull ache she experienced served as a reminder of the reality of her job, and what folly it was to hold onto idealism and girlish hopes.

It had been a week, and business had been slow. Genesis hadn't shown any interest, and the Upperworld bookings required girls of specific skills, so that Aeris had been neglected for a while. But she was content. Harmony and Gem had persuaded her to hide the fact that Sephiroth had paid her so generously for what she'd gone through; in any case it was hardly believable that a man would go to such lengths and spend so much money for something that remained non-consensual, so the lie passed smoothly enough. The two-digit amounts that she raked in for every hour of work didn't seem so disappointing after the spontaneous combustion of her money-bearing tin boxes due to the First Class's ridiculous payments.

"Are you seriously going to keep all those greens in your biscuit boxes?" Gem asked her, hanging around in the other girl's room in order to get ready for a booking up above.

"Where else am I going to keep them?" Aeris said, "My house doesn't exactly have a better security system than here."

"Harmony's got room to spare in her D-cups if you want," Gem grinned as she leaned towards the mirror, drawing on her eyebrows.

"That wouldn't be such a bad idea," Aeris agreed with a smile, "Might get her more popularity during intros."

"Gaia knows she needs a bit of help. The girl's in a rut at the moment."

"Well, aren't we all?"

"That's winter for you."

"And," Aeris added jokingly, "it's not very encouraging to see you hopping off to dance performances and burlesque stripteases while we're slaving away down here." She personally didn't really feel an ounce of jealousy about it though – she really needed a bit of down time.

"What do you want me to do about it? A hooker's gotta do what a hooker's gotta do," Gem muttered as she lowered her chin, spraying one last perfumed plume of lacquer into her Mohawk, "Besides, I can't be mother to you _and_ Harmony, can I?"

"I hope I'm not stealing you away from her." They never talked about their past or relationships outside of work, so Aeris spoke a little hesitantly, knowing she was treading on forbidden ground.

"Well, I make a crap mother figure anyway, though I do try," Gem said with a secretive little smile, "When you're a slum child there are only two options available to you; either become a creature of compassion, or a selfish profit-driven twat."

"You grew up in the slums?"

"Born and raised," Gem affirmed, looking over at her, and her glimmering regal appearance seemed to contradict any notion of her spending her childhood searching the mountains of garbage that the Upperworld deposited under the plate, "Well, _raised_ is a relative term."

"I'm with you there," Aeris said, holding onto her own secrets as she finished applying the white on her bruise.

Gem stared at her then, pale contacts giving her eyes an intimidating look. "Now you're making _me_ curious."

There was a little silence as both girls gauged whether or not to divulge anything personal to one another. Aeris was becoming fond of the few friends she'd made here, but she didn't think it was enough to entrust them with the burden of her past – and Hegemony had turned her attention back to the mirror, apparently also set on going no further. Slightly frustrated at her unfulfilled curiosity, Aeris reverted to their old subject to refrain from insisting when she wouldn't say anything either. _Fair's fair._

"So what's so bad about leaving the money here?"

"Well, you know you've made quite a few enemies," Gem told her, "It had to happen eventually – as soon as you get famous clients, you can kiss work relations goodbye."

"They can't _envy _me!" That was just twisted. But the older woman looked over at her, eyes underlined by the colourful flash of sequins.

"Of course they envy you, Chime." She turned back to the mirror to apply her fake lashes. "And you know what happens when girls get envious."

"But – look at my _face!_"

"They don't see that," Gem replied, "You know what they see when they look at you. Which is why I'm telling you - you should get your money to a safer place."

Aeris wasn't exactly dumbfounded by the information; she just hadn't wanted to acknowledge the dry expressions and unfriendly looks of several girls when they'd accost new clients together, or simply greet each other in the corridors in between bookings. There was still a feeling of solidarity stemming from the fact that they were all women here, and striving towards the same goal. But apart from emergencies that would arise, like slum customers who insisted on getting services they hadn't paid for or who were violent, the girls didn't really spontaneously come towards her for a chat like they used to.

"I don't know any safer place," Aeris said softly, "We don't exactly have identities up above so banks aren't really an option."

"There are alternatives down here," Gem told her, then seemed to hesitate again before glancing up at her friend with an uncharacteristically shy smile.

"Chime… do you trust me?"

• • •

The dust kicked up around Hegemony's feet as she headed towards their Sector 4 HQ. Last night had been profitable, and reluctant as she might be to share her cut of the benefits, it was her duty. The strained skin in between her shoulder-blades attested to that.

In normal circumstances she did everything to cover up that burn-mark, the mark of her allegiance down here that every gang child suffered as soon as they were of age to start working for their elders. But it was the best protection one could imagine to walk bare-backed and unconcealed in the alleyways of the slums; that is, as long as it was Hound territory. She'd kept her Mohawk too, and didn't even bother hiding the guns she wore at either hip, so that any eager slummer looking for trouble would get the fuck out of her way as soon as they realized whose protection she was under.

The Sector 4 Underground was crawling with activity. Gem didn't look even slightly out of place with her modified silhouette as she climbed down the ladders that joined the multitude of steel platforms, walking amongst the defaced and crippled, the hulks and creeps and self-proclaimed leaders who made up the sinister group. A lot of women opted for shaving their skulls so that it was slightly difficult to make the difference between genders; in any case, the grubby lighting down here made everyone look skeletal and slightly inhuman.

"_Gemmaaa!_" The string of kids erupted as usual, jumping around her and grabbing at her hands – she smiled down at them, noting the head of the Hound scar peeking out from their tops as they spun around her.

Once she'd finished greeting the habitual acquaintances and people she'd grown up with, she'd come to the main platform, the largest one that led to different niches in the walls where the leaders did their business. She passed the makeshift workshops where men were hammering at wasted blades and repairing guns that the scouts would find in the garbage disposals. Then there were the specialists who handled the finer weapons they received through trade and connections; and further on, there were those who gathered materia and tried to put together the shards that always littered industrial Upperworld trash.

Gem couldn't help stopping at the materia workshop, running her hands along the surface of a shard-ridden tray, making the multicoloured pebbles roll and shine dully between her fingers. It had been her passion as a kid, finding shards in the filth or picking tourists' pockets, feeling like she was some great archaeologist or treasure hunter.

"Them's wasted," grunted one of the materia restoration artists, "They'll serve as nothing 'xcept jewellery if I polish 'em hard enough."

"What are you working on?" Gem asked him, and the old man huffed a little as he uncovered the desk where he was working; a dozen orbs glittered up at her, most of them green or yellow.

"Got some rare All shards that passed the test," the man told her, "And the kids found some of those red pieces; said they'd finally found a Summon, but the pieces won't work independently. We'll see what the bugger's worth once put together."

"Cool." Gem felt the old childish awe growing inside her at the sight of the orbs, cracked and imperfect as they were. She wondered what Sephiroth's Esuna had looked like… probably a perfect sphere, the inner essence not dulled in the slightest by any foggy fractures.

There was a sudden warmth on her back, and she shivered as she felt fingertips tracing the circle of the coiled Hound between her shoulder-blades. She sighed, pulse quickening as she realized who it was – but then the hand withdrew, and the man's arms came around her before she could turn around, hands coming over her bosom as he tied something around her neck.

"The kids found an old crate full of Mako syringes," the man offered as an explanation as she turned to face him with an exasperated expression. He was around the same age as her, long dreadlocks tied in a big messy bun behind his head, unkempt beard accentuating his hollow cheeks. "Looks gorgeous on you."

Gem looked away uncomfortably as she untied the gift, contemplating it in her clean white hands; silk laces dyed black to hide their age, holding a glass vial of a fluorescent green liquid. The vial was worn and opaque in places, though the whole was quite beautiful.

She looked up with an apologetic smile. "It's cute..."

The man seemed immediately abashed when that smile had graced her lips – his joyful expression withdraw as quick as a clam. "But you get a thousand times better thanks to your First Class, I know."

"Bastien," the woman chastised him, berating herself for still being so susceptible in front of this man when she frequented men who were far more dangerous; "I can't wear personal effects for work."

"Why the fuck not? You're mine," the man said, "You ought to have at least a token relating to us. I know you always wear _his_."

"It's only work, and you know that," she told him, angrily shoving the gift against his chest; he didn't take it.

"I know it's work. You're the one who doesn't seem to understand that," Bastien spat at her, "He doesn't give a shit about you, you know. And even if he did, he's from another world. When are you going to get that in your head?"

Heart pounding at the probability of truth in what he was saying, Gem looked away, not wanting to confirm either to him or to herself what she truly felt for that man. It was such a muddle, and she didn't feel the need to make sense of anything for now.

"It's only work, I said," she insisted. Bastien pulled her against him forcefully in response.

"We have far more than what you could possibly have with him," he told her. "Remember that."

She pushed away from him, irritated as always by how he brought her back to reality, how trapped he made her feel – in the movement her fingers loosened their hold, and the vial shattered at Bastien's feet, green oozing over his shoes. He looked at her incredulously – veins popped against the skin of his muscular arms as he grabbed her.

"_Baz -_ "

"Every time," he shouted, "Every single time you go to the Upperworld, you come back so fucking full of yourself. Aren't we good enough for you? Is that what you think?"

She instinctively turned her head as he shook her, shouting right in her face and drawing the attention of a few other members though his voice was slightly drowned by the smiths' hammering in the workshops behind them. Down here, the only law was the elders' law; they decided on couples, on childbirth, on what role you had in the community. And even if she'd loved Bastien for a long time, believing there was something special about there being someone out there who'd been chosen just for her… that had been before she'd known the luxury of the world outside the slums, before she'd discovered the existence of tact and refinement and… well, she couldn't even define the difference in other terms than the vulgar and the practical. Everything was so _clean_ up there. And the men were just so worldly and sophisticated. Perhaps it was her ego that was enamoured by the world above and not her true self… but how does one go about differentiating the two and their conflicting desires, anyway?

"Let _go _of me, for fuck's sake - "

"What do the men up there have that we don't, huh?"

She looked up at him; she could see right through his anger, how hurt he was, how he ached for some time of recognition on her part. But she felt the grip of his calloused fingers squeezing her arms much more keenly than any empathy, and suddenly there flashed the image of Chimera, poor, innocent little Chimera and her purple eye; and she forgot herself.

"Nothing," she hissed, "You're all the same in this city." Then she wrenched out of his grip and grabbed one of her guns, cocking it and aiming right at his face, knocking the barrel against his forehead and breathing so hard that it felt like she was expelling all the love and hatred and contradictory feelings she'd ever borne for this man. _You were never good enough for me_, she wanted to scream. She forgot sometimes, that it didn't change anything to struggle against iron shackles.

He looked at her, and it seemed so obvious to her that his anger was only a cover-up for his bruised ego; he'd never been good at exteriorizing anything soft or sincere, it always had to go through blind abuse. And at that moment, she hated him _so much_. Hated him for being him, lacking complexity, holding her back; hated him though she knew she was only taking out on him what the entire clan made her feel. It was unfair. But nothing was ever fair in this place.

In an instant she was seized from behind; the guns were taken away from her, and she wriggled around for a while in her rage – but a sharp slap and a yelled order remedied that. Once she'd grudgingly lowered her head and put down her hands, she followed them to the correctional shack where she diligently took the punishment for holding an honest man at gunpoint.

Bastien was waiting for her when she came out. She glared at him, and he glared back, but they walked and folded up the incident in their minds, stowing it away neatly with the thousands of others. He accompanied her to the Hound leaders' sector, and they passed the shacks and workhouses of the clan amongst which they had grown up together.

"We should stop making each other look like idiots someday," he ventured after they'd walked on in companionable silence.

She snorted at that, hands in her pockets. "Speak for yourself."

"What business have you got with the Leaders anyway?"

Gem looked up at him and smiled a sharp, ironic smile. "Sex with Soldiers is getting political, so here I am."

"You're not being funny, Gem," he warned her.

"Sure I am."

His head was bowed, teeth grinding. "When are they going to sign you off that job? It's been ages now."

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe when my First Class _buys_ me."

"That's what you'd like isn't it?" There he was, hiding behind rudeness again.

"Yes, Bastien. That's what I'd like." She said it only to spite him.

"Fucking whore," Bastien growled to himself, shaking his head, and she looked at him exasperatedly.

"Yeah," she said, "But this whore has enough bling to put Don Corneo to shame, and she gets to see things you never will."

"You can keep those things to yourself," he snapped back, "I'd rather be down here keeping grips on who I am than kissing those bastards' arses." He looked a bit nauseous. "Or any other body part."

Gem afforded him a grin. "That's the downside. Can't always choose the arse to kiss."

"Yeah well. You can't complain," he said, "Got yourself the pretty boy, haven't you?"

He seemed to have calmed down and reverted to a helpless sort of tolerance, so she nonchalantly slipped an arm through his, the usual feeling of guilt beginning to settle.

"He's got nothing on you," she told him playfully, and he barely grunted in response.

"Don't start with the tender stuff," he said, "I'm not used to that."

"I'll be tender if I fucking well please."

He was finally grinning, though apparently trying to suppress it to keep true to his _manly_ character. They'd come to the wide, pipe-lined and oil-stinking entrance of the leader's niche, so she left him there, kissing him insolently on the cheek and turning her back on him before he could protest.

•

The men were milling around the leaders' enclave, talking amongst themselves and receiving information from scouts and spies whose business was to sniff around the slums and try to get their hands on enough information about the rival gangs' movements, and the world above. Her hard-earned money passed into the treasurer's hands, and the men looked at her without even the slightest hint of appreciation; it was a customary transaction. As always she felt vaguely insulted at the lack of distinction between working women; she frankly busted her arse and brought them more money than the majority of Hound members, and yet she was still treated as mildly as any other girl. The men went on earning titular nicknames for far less profitable deeds than what the clan women did, but nobody ever spoke up about it. The only aspect that brought her a semblance of respect was the fact that she served as a bridge between the gang and the heads of ShinRa – the Hounds' spiritual father would listen to her discoveries, but since their main troubles were with rivalling gangs and financial sustenance, they didn't really take into consideration the opportunity of using her for something more complicated than money.

She submitted the inquiry of whether they could hold onto the money that Chimera had given her, all the while making it circulate to their benefit. Chimera had only given her a portion to see if Gem's obscure methods were really trustworthy (Gem naturally hadn't disclosed what those methods were). They accepted the money, giving her a deposit that she carefully tucked in her pocket.

While she was taking care of the details, their spiritual father – otherwise known as the Guard – looked over at her, summoning her to him once she'd finished. Every girl had a crush on that man when they were small; well, down here you had a crush on power, and any man who wielded it. So naturally, being older, every woman wrestled for a bit of his attention or any sign of favouritism. She headed over to his elaborately decorated desk in order to debrief the evening, impressed as always by the man's scarred face and imposing presence. Genesis hadn't been there tonight – she'd been hired by a luxury dining salon to dance with several other girls. There had been a few ShinRa heads, and the Turks, with whom the Hounds were familiar, but she'd never gotten close enough to hear anything interesting.

"You've done a good job keeping him interested for this long," the Guard said. "Times are changing, Gemma. You should hold onto him while you can."

"What do you mean?" She stood a little straighter; there was something dire about his tone.

"You know what we think of ShinRa down here," the Guard told her with a glimpse of irony in his gaze, as if he knew just how divided she was in her affections. "And the rise of this new ecological movement might just be our saving grace."

She'd seen posters in the streets of every Sector; this AVALANCHE group seemed set on tearing down everything that ShinRa stood for and rallying everyone to their cause. But… she didn't want to admit that she'd fallen in love with the dancing lights of the Upperworld, the spotless glass walls and the hope of a better life – the Hounds had always held onto the belief that ShinRa would one day fall and they'd accede to some type of freedom, but it was a utopia, a mere fantasy. ShinRa would never fall… would it? She didn't want to believe that she'd changed sides, but the mere thought of that scintillating world vanishing made her insides twist with fear.

The Guard kept an eye on the professional indifference of her expression, looking for cracks.

"It's come to my attention that you're becoming rather fond of your other life," the man said in a threateningly calm tone, "You know that it's all a dream, don't you Gem? That it's all fake?"

"Yes, sir."

"I hope I can count on you when the time comes."

"Of course, sir."

• • •

"Seems like you've got a secret admirer."

Aeris turned the packet over in her hands, standing in Boss's office while the man observed her actions. The packet had come in this morning – it was a little box, wrapped in silky red paper with a golden froth of ribbon in a corner. Aeris had immediately thought of Zack, but there was a little sticker securing the ribbon that clearly stated the jeweller's address above the plate.

"So you don't know who it's from?" she asked Boss, red-painted nails slipping under a fold.

"You tell me," Boss said rather blithely before going back to the contracts he was reading.

Breath hitching with delight, Aeris uncovered a black velvet case that held in the palm of her hand; her mind was sorting through the possible admirers like a slot machine, and she shook her head as the figurative slots kept jamming on Genesis, wondering whether this was some type of bribe. Then she realized he must know by now what had transpired between her and… the General, so perhaps it served as an apology? Her excitement slipped away, making room for a melancholic sort of appreciation to settle as she worked at the latch; even the paper was red, it had to be him.

When she saw what was inside however, she knew straight away who it was from. And the feeling wasn't a good one at all. Boss watched the different expressions racing across her face, scratching away noisily at his papers so that she wouldn't think he was spying too closely on his best worker's affairs.

"Expensive, is it?"

"No," she breathed, "I- I don't think so."

There was only one other reason for her to look so horrified. "Is it from him?"

She was tempted to slam the box shut and never even touch it again, but perhaps it was because she was in Boss's presence and therefore couldn't give in to any childish urges that she forced herself to pluck the impossibly fine silver chain from the box, lifting up the necklace so that Boss could see the pulsing green pendant that adorned it. It was a small orb, hardly bigger than a finger bone, and it seemed to withhold a glob of sunlight in its bowels.

"The chain is liquid silver, so I can guarantee you it's worth a fine little sum," Boss told her, "Is that materia?"

"It's an Esuna," Aeris said, "Whittled down for jewellery."

"Do you want me to sell it for you?" Boss asked her in very frank tones, seeing how distressed she looked about receiving it. It wouldn't be the first time a Bee girl preferred the money rather than the gift, so it seemed like a perfectly normal offer – but to his wonder, the girl dropped it into the box again and clamped it shut with a determined "No".

She fidgeted a little under his scrutiny, her heart hammering against her ribs and her mind full of discording notions – thanking him, she bowed briefly and headed back to her room, holding the box against her chest.

It was an apology, alright. But not from whom she'd expected.

She'd spent the weeks in the arms of slum customers, fighting to regain a sense of her own worth and trying to ignore the disgust born from certain sexual acts that reminded her too much of what had been done to her; the disgust was born from the fact that her body had enjoyed certain things that Sephiroth had done, while her mind certainly hadn't. There was a discrepancy in every act she undertook now – mind and body refused to cooperate unless she forced them, or drugged them both with borrowed bottles from Gem's stash of alcohol. So how the hell could a man expect her to be reconciled with him, when she couldn't even be reconciled with her own body? Especially seeing as that same man had been the cause of the divide.

She sat on her bed, hugging her knees against her chest and setting the jewellery box in front of her red-painted toes. There was still that ridiculous desire to smash it with a hammer, but… the gesture in itself of Sephiroth sending this to her was so intriguing that she couldn't help wondering what the appropriate reaction should be, and thus became detached enough to not give in to violent urges.

_Don't pretend to be anything more, _he'd said… perhaps he'd forgotten to add, _unless you have my express permission? _Was that what it was? What it meant?

Her bell rang, and she jerked out of her reverie, taking the black box as carefully as if it were a bird skull, stowing it away in her lingerie drawer between the fine white nylon of her stockings. Then she headed out to fetch her client, fluffing up her hair self-consciously as she went. She'd have to find an appropriate time to think about this.

• • •

"I opened this establishment for purely personal reasons, my good sir. You'll have to be very persuasive indeed to make me give up my control over the girls."

Delaine beheld the man, reclining in the Honey Bee office and flipping the pages of the catalogue, framed by his usual duo of bodyguards. He stopped on the glossy page that held the picture of a rosy-cheeked nymph who had all the characteristics of belonging to an ancient, delicate world. Her mouth was parted, aqueous green eyes averted, and spirals of chestnut hair tumbled down a long white throat.

"She's the one, isn't she?" Delaine said, tilting his head to the side. Then he tested the girl's name, letting it roll against his palate; "Chimera."

"I'm afraid she hasn't been solicited for Upperworld work in the last few weeks," Boss said.

"I know." _What a waste, for a mere slum girl to possess such beauty._ He had to be in control of every pawn in the game, however; seduction was a game of chance, and he would never presume to know what a man like Sephiroth could desire. Even if the chances of this girl rising in his favours again was minimal, he couldn't take the risk of ignoring it.

Delaine leaned forwards. "I'm sure you'll find me to be a very persuasive man." He smiled, taking a long cigar from the gold case he kept in an inside pocket, offering one to Boss before continuing. "First of all, here is how my system works, if you so choose to become a part of it.

"As you know, I profit from a wide range of connections both in the higher spheres of our society, including the more, shall we say, _controversial_ spheres. This means that any establishment under my protection and jurisdiction profits from these connections, as well as the protection that is subsequently due. Now." He puffed out a stinking string of smoke. "I'm aware that you used to be above the plate, yes?"

"Yes," growled the Boss, containing himself with difficulty at the sight of this worldly worm oozing its territorial juices all over his office.

"I'm proposing we forge an alliance," Delaine drawled.

"In which I'd give you a generous sum of my profits and draw a line on my promises to the girls?" It was less a coherently structured argument than a resounding _Don't take me for an idiot._

"Nonsense. I'm not asking you to completely erase all functionalities of your system," Delaine said, "You must understand just how averse to profit your current system _is._ The higher the doxy rises, the more you should hold onto her, not give her away and risk her flying off the radar and being used for obscure purposes."

"Listen pal," Boss said, leaning forward and making his chair creak ominously, "You might do things for your own benefits, but that's not the purpose down here. I don't know if you bothered to take a look outside your limo when you came to grace us with your presence, but think about where you are. Think about what this place _is._ These girls want out, and I'm the gateway."

"Yes, but," Delaine interrupted him, "If you think your workers' success amongst ShinRa's highest ranks has gone unnoticed, you're not suitable as a manager for this type of work at all."

"Then why don't you ask to see whichever worker's piqued your interest? I'm sure we could come to an arrangement."

Delaine smiled around the drool-blackened butt of his cigar. "You know which one I want in that case."

Boss looked down at the catalogue, twitching as he repressed the urge to swipe that wrinkled hand off of Chimera's face. His answer was gruff and guttural, mouth hardly moving as he uttered it;

"_No_."

It almost sounded like _jealousy_. Delaine smirked.

"Think about my proposition. I can offer your girls far more money and opportunity than you ever could."

"But you couldn't offer them their freedom," Boss said, "That's all they work for."

"Who said I wouldn't offer them that?" Delaine held the other man's gaze. "There are many establishments above the plate that would take them. I could help organize that."

The man transpired deceit, and as the conversation went on, Boss could only hear one thing in his interlocutor's voice: _you can't refuse me. _Every word he used to describe the girls made them sound like livestock – but Boss might clench his fists and grind his teeth as much as he'd like, he didn't have a fraction of the muscle and financial support that this man had. Ultimately, this meeting was only a formality. The man could take anything he wanted; all he had to do was extend a hand.

And all of Boss's careful planning was swept away, along with the girls' potential independence.

"You want another?"

Delaine offered him his dratted cigar case again, staring at him with smug confidence.

"No, I have work to do." The barely implicit _Now get the fuck out_ hovered in the air between them. But Delaine was content to smile another of his slimy smiles, too polite to let anything affect him while he had the upper hand.

"I propose a duel, to mark the opening of our collaboration," the worm drawled, leaning back as one of his boys relit his cigar for him. "I understand Chimera is having a bit of trouble with her new client, yes?"

"Not as much trouble as you might think," Boss said rather snootily, "These are slum girls. Not exactly made of the same stuff as those soft kittens of yours who possess both sky and choice."

"In any case, it all boils down to the client's preference," Delaine went on, "I'm proposing we test whether your Chimera has such a strong hold over him as you seem to be implying."

"And how do you suggest we do that?"

His face disappeared behind a puff of grey smoke as thick as car exhaust. "The basis of rivalry. Competition. One of my girls against yours."

Boss raised an eyebrow. "A game for your girl. The difference between a good salary and a number under the poverty line for mine. Is it always going to be this fair?"

"Of course it is," Delaine smirked. "I'm nothing if not fair-play."

• • •

Sunlight fell softly between Aeris' fingers, a weightless golden shawl draping over her as she lay there.

Petals tickled her bruised skin like so many childish fingers asking for attention. For some reason, Aeris couldn't perform any type of introspection if she wasn't in her church – most people seemed to have some inner structure into which they could retreat to find themselves, but her sanctuary was tangible and outside of herself, as if she needed physical arms instead of inner invocations.

Tear-soaked fingers searched the soil for her own roots, and in a shaking breath she let go of her fears, sinking into the wooden veins of her memory. The earth clotted under her fingernails and in the creases between her fingers – then, slowly, the clumps solidified into long, lithe fingers that held her firmly as she journeyed through herself. A tremulous smile created itself in the melancholy of her face as she felt the woman's presence, and her heart ached with the joy of furtive reunion.

The woman bore a sharp scent of cloves, and it brought to Aeris images of winter lights and high pine trees against a wide white moon; there was the evanescent texture of snow, and the silk of the woman's long hair; there were cabalistic intonations of a long-forgotten tongue, and the purring of possessiveness that made Aeris dizzy with a sense of belonging that she no longer knew.

Her lips parted, sticky strings of tears stretching between them, and she uttered the syllables as though wrenching nails from her chest – _Mother… _and her own, childish voice resonated in response, screaming the word again and again.

Then, clouds of ash flew across her vision, and there was cold cement beneath her knees and blood on her fingers replacing the maternal hands. Lips moved against her ear, whispering in their secret language … _Never forget who you are. Never forget where you come from, Aeris.  
_

Hands came to her face, tracing the bruises, and she opened her red-rimmed eyes, ribs full of snow and a crimson quiver of emotion. The certainty of _being_ had been robbed from her with all the assurances of her identity being contained in her profession – but she was slowly piecing herself back together again. They were all wrong. However badly they treated her, as long as she still knew who she was, it would be alright. As long as she kept her hands in the earth and her eyes in the sky, it didn't matter what anybody might say or do to her. Her resolve would protect her from all of them, and when she was free… she'd continue on her journey, bearing her scars like so many tokens of victory.

_I am Aeris Gainsborough. I am my own person._

She undid the necklace, and lifted it to her neck.

_• • •_

The typography was glaringly colourful against the black and white background, like an old horror movie poster. The seasoned hooker exhaled smoke as she read the anti-ShinRa defamations that the poster claimed; they were glued to every corner of the Upperworld in the night, only to be torn down again during the day. AVALANCHE was nothing if not persistent, and every day the posters held different slogans, bore different caricatures of the ShinRa heads.

_ShinRa will assure you a roof and a bed, and enough artificial DNA to last you through a lifetime of servitude!  
_

_Children are a thing of the past! Send your bothersome offspring to the ShinRa labs and be amazed by the finished product. The only price is your humanity.  
_

This time it was a snarky comment about the Soldiers' Mako irradiation, blood-red offense plastered over a low-angle portrait of Sephiroth with such contrasting lighting that he looked like he could be slotted next to Boris Karloff in the "horror villain" category.

She trailed her gloved fingers over the man's paper jawline, travelling across his mouth. Those radicals, spoiling such a pretty face with their propagandist filth. Her eyes skimmed over the parody of the ShinRa stamp in a corner of the poster, and it brought to mind to the multitude of rainy nights, the patter against high windows, louder than her own footsteps through the many halls and corridors. _The swirling snow in an endless sky; as soundless as her footfalls in the ice crevices. _The kiss of metal as her finger embraced the trigger;the elongated shadow of her weapon against the floral patterns of the walls… _the marine-blue ripples on the crystal cave walls…_ It was a hunt like any other, and it was for the thrill that she lived, that she had always lived.

Her hand came to the edge of the poster and ripped it from the wall, letting it flutter to her feet. And she continued on her way, heels tearing the poster apart.

• • •


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's notes: Sorry for the delay. I really don't know what the hell happened to this chapter. I hadn't been writing because of pseudo-sentimental reasons and I think they might've spilled a bit onto the writing. Do tell if you're confused about anything, or if you think some things don't work/don't make sense/etc. :)  
Thanks to my lovely, lovely reviewers! This is specially dedicated to Gluaygluay for the much-needed inspirational kick in the butt. I mean, I actually shouldn't be writing because my exams are coming up in like 3 weeks but, two months without writing is just... no. ;w; _

_Music: Ghost in the Shell - Making of Cyborg; The Irrepressibles - "Nude" trilogy. Listen to that trilogy. That fucking trilogy. Oh my god. _

* * *

_**Border of Taboo**_

**10**

• • •

They were dancing on the fiery-red cliff tops of the Cosmo Canyon, landscape disintegrating into virtual hexagons where the land was unmapped. Like two wraiths spinning around one another, they leapt from ledge to ledge, sending white-hot bolts of magic at one another when too much distance separated them.

Genesis had never been in better shape – his style still had a passionate messiness about it, but his combat partner could see that he was trying to incorporate strategy rather than blind offence The fictive sunset threw dancing lights in his hair and on his leathers, so that he seemed like an entity of fire as he advanced on his adversary – Sephiroth wasn't very comfortable with the inherent heat of the place, but it had been Genesis' turn to choose.

The General swept away a bolt of electricity with a ringing swipe of his Masamune, before propelling himself into the air in one leap. He turned on himself, throwing out his arms and lifting his chin as he triggered the latest Summon materia they'd asked him to test.

"You cheating scum!" Genesis shouted up at his friend, his face glowing with the excitement of battle. "Which is it?"

"_Bahamut!"_ Sephiroth shouted back as the sky began to darken; the air carried a low thrum, and a tremor grew under Genesis' feet.

"Oh, of course! Let me just get my fucking Chocomog ready," the redhead yelled, clearly feeling the favoritism like a stab in the chest. He'd thought Scarlet loved him more – but Hojo was probably the one to assign the materia tests.

There was a distant screech, and the clouds strained as the atmospheric upheaval pulled them into a shredded swirl – Genesis watched as the darkness gathered behind Sephiroth's cruciform figure far above the landscape, his breath stolen away by awe. It was in moments like these that he remembered why he fought so hard day after day to keep his status, reverting to his teenage self and allowing himself to feel the old idolatry pulsing in his chest.

A scaly black head pierced the cloudy rosette, directly behind the General – the head was so huge that Genesis almost yelled at his friend to get out of the way, before remembering that _he_ was the intended target. Laughing as the adrenaline pumped through his veins, the redhead sheathed the heavy blade he was testing and proceeded to run for his life. The cliff edge was coming into view – there was a rush of hot air as gargantuan wings displaced the normal currents, and a savage chimeric scream filled the air, making Genesis' eardrums flap.

His feet were at the edge of the cliff. The boy in him made him yell with apprehension as he broke through the urge to stop. And he leapt.

Hot air rushed past his limbs as he rose up, arms and legs wheeling, as though in slow motion – at the same moment there was a sickening distortion of cyber-reality as the shafts of sunlight bent and refracted, gathering into the Bahamut's jaws as it fed on exterior power sources in order to merge them with its own.

Genesis fell.

His partner had landed on the cliff top, bending over on one knee, watching as the redhead's coat flew up around him like leather wings. He was miniscule in comparison to the creature who'd pierced the sky – the General was almost breathless with anticipation, caught up in the battle and only slightly worried about any possible negative outcome. He trusted his fellow First Class not to do anything stupid.

Genesis caught himself on an arch, collapsing into a roll so that his legs wouldn't break – only the arch wasn't very wide, so he found himself calculatedly falling from surface to surface like a cat jumps from rooftop to rooftop. The Bahamut was advancing through the sky, following him, the ball of energy it was brewing almost large enough to break its jaws – it had to discharge any time now to preserve its own health.

"_Genesis!_" Sephiroth felt compelled to yell as the Bahamut squinted and arched its great spine in preparation – Genesis looked up, kneeling on a ledge, and he didn't even have time to grin as he saw what was coming. The very air seemed to warp and shiver as the blast erupted from the Bahamut's mouth – the laser shot toward the cliff, straight at the tiny human who didn't seem inclined to move out of the way. Just as Sephiroth was really starting to worry, the redhead dove straight off the cliff face, evading the laser by a hair's breadth – said cliff face shattered and exploded upon impact, and Sephiroth's mouth parted as he watched his friend freefalling through the crimson shower of rocks and boulders.

He made his way down to ground-level as the Bahamut retreated into the sky, sheathing his Masamune across his back as he went. The sound of cascading rock and age-old formations dislocating filled his ears as he made his way down fragile arches and spiny passageways; more than once he slipped and caught himself in improvised acrobatics as the ground shuddered under the impact of the avalanche. Once his boots hit solid ground, he had to squint as he looked around himself, the rocks having lifted a veil of sand in the air. It was only when every rock had wedged itself between its neighbours and silence had somewhat fallen that he found Genesis casually perched on a crumbled boulder, dusting his leathers and recovering his breath.

"I think we've smashed the simulation room again," Genesis called down, and Sephiroth laughed, both with relief and to dispel the tension of the battle.

"You idiot," he shouted, "I was getting some Phoenix Down ready."

"Fuck off! I was totally in control of the situation." He stepped back, before running up and performing a graceful forward flip, touching the ground at Sephiroth's side.

"Of course you were. Especially when the _cliff_ exploded, with you on it." The silver-haired man was making a point not to look impressed, taking out his phone in order to end the simulation and see what state they'd put the training room in – but then a shoulder was driving against his stomach, wrenching the air from his lungs, and he was sandwiched between the floor and a raging red-clad wraith.

"_Take that back!"_

_•_

About an hour later the two men had signaled the state of shameful disrepair of the simulation room, and were undressing in the communal showers. Due to the severe hours of garrison monitoring, mission planning, and grunt training that had accompanied Wutai's retaliation on the Rocket Launch Pad, they were both completely late when it came to weapon testing, having piles of Weapon Department-stamped crates in their First Class quarters. So during the last few weeks they'd been obliged to postpone their test sessions until nighttime. There was practically no one in the HQ at the times of their sessions, so Genesis would act like a perfect derelict teenager, taking advantage of the deserted conference rooms and corridors to have a smoke or continue sparring with his usual choice of trance music echoing eerily across the walls, just to cool off after their long days of work. Tonight however, there was more activity than usual – clearly their testing nights hadn't gone unnoticed, because there were more and more Second Class milling around the simulation rooms and combat areas, taking advantage of the tranquility of an empty HQ to hone their skills.

There was a sweet-smelling fog in the showers as they shed their leathers in the cloakroom; one or two Second Class men nodded rather eagerly at the two elites as they exited the showers and walked in with towels around their waists. Genesis nodded back at them, calling them by name when he knew them - Sephiroth was too busy unstrapping his pauldrons, or perhaps he just didn't care for human interaction come a certain hour.

"Ahh." Genesis groaned with delight as he undid the complex system of straps and buckles that held his leather armour together, stretching down and touching the ground to relieve his back and shoulders. The General noticed several bruises blooming artfully over the man's shoulder blades and impressively sculpted serratus muscles, becoming apparent over his ribs as he bent over.

"You've been working," Sephiroth stated, setting his pauldrons on the bench with a metallic _clank._

"I've been taking a beating, you mean," Genesis grinned as he straightened up, hooking up his coat and armour.

"Stop underestimating yourself," his partner berated him, "I haven't seen you training this intensely in months. It's paying off."

"It's because Angeal isn't here to tug on my leash," Genesis told him, yanking the Soldier-stamped belt from his waist rather nonchalantly, though he inwardly glowed at the compliment. It was also because he was in a strange frenzy to make up for his past mistakes somehow, taking it out on his body and striving to feel as though he was changing _something_ for the better. But Sephiroth didn't need to know of his vanity; at least, he didn't have to verbalize it since the man had probably guessed it anyway, and had enough tact not to mention it.

"I noticed. Perhaps he should stay at the Launch Pad a little longer," Sephiroth said with a rare grin, and the redhead looked over at him with raised eyebrows.

"D'you think I'm stupid?" he cried with mock agitation, "I'm starting to think you're enjoying beating me to a pulp far more than what's acceptable. The sooner Angeal comes home, the better." Sephiroth lowered his gaze as Genesis added, "It's different without him."

"It is different, yes. You have neither shield nor voice of reason to hide behind," the silver-haired man stated, black leather whispering along his skin as he shed his trench coat and hooked it up.

"That's not necessarily a _good thing_, Sephiroth," the redhead laughed, "And stop acting like I'm the only one who needs a voice of reason."

Just as he was saying this, he noticed the long, angry red swipes that adorned the General's bare back. His first reaction was to try and remember how their spar had gone – he was sure he would've _noticed _if Sephiroth had taken off his damn clothes during their session. But those weren't the usual marks left by spells, either. Hell, none of his spells had even touched the man.

An idea bloomed in his mind as he searched for alternative reasons, and then a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth until it had gleefully uncovered all his teeth.

"Sephiroth," he said, "Is there something you want to tell me?"

"Hm?" The silver-haired man had a boot up on the bench, working at the laces in rapid swipes that resounded with the slap of cords against leather. Genesis watched the red lines curl over his shifting muscles, hugging his ribs and evoking the ghost of a passionate partner.

"Either your secretary poured coffee on your back," Genesis said, "Or you had a… _different_ type of interaction with her."

One hand squeezed the boot above its heel to stow it away, and Sephiroth sighed as he stamped his other booted foot on the bench, leaning over his thigh to work at the laces.

"Yes Genesis. Everyone knows my secretary is exactly my type of woman."

"Nobody even knows what your type of woman _is_," Genesis protested, though now he believed he might have an inkling as to who the lucky lady might be. Or… not so lucky, seeing the savage quality of those superficial scars. "Far be it from me to make that kind of deduction."

"So what kind of deduction are you making, exactly?"

"I'm merely trying to guess what kind of sublime creature made those marks on your back."

"What _marks?_ I don't have any marks." The General didn't even pause as he yanked at his laces – and then just as his friend was about to enlighten him, his forearms slowed, fingers sliding along the freed laces with a certain sensuality before they dropped. He straightened as though hit by a sudden realization, looking over his shoulder at the mirror that took up a good half of the opposing wall, and Genesis saw the man's brow furrowing as he examined his reflection. He watched for any change of expression that might betray Sephiroth's memory as he took in the aggressive red slashes that marred his back – and sure enough, a tiny little smile appeared, nothing more than a rictus that placed a mysterious little fold in his cheek.

"Aha!" The redhead cried out triumphantly, grabbing his friend around the shoulders quite suddenly, "I saw that, Sephiroth! I saw that!"

The silver-haired man easily shrugged him off, smile widening as he did so. It was such an uncommon expression – Genesis would even venture so far as to say that he seemed embarrassed.

"And here I was thinking that we might go a day without talking about sex," the General muttered, going back to his boot.

"I can't believe you didn't even notice. I mean, I've been there, and it _stings_ something vicious. Especially when putting clothes on – and you don't even put anything between skin and leather." The redhead shivered to mark his point.

"I don't think I expressed any type of desire to be informed on the details of your sex life, Gen."

"You know you never need to," Genesis grinned, "Come on. Out with it. Who was she?"

The boot was unlaced; Sephiroth stowed it away under the bench with the other, straightening up and towering over his friend to better impose his authority.

"I don't owe you anything," he said with raised eyebrows, "I won the duel."

"_What!_" Genesis sputtered as the man turned to take off his leathers. "That must be your shittiest excuse yet. We know you're stoic but now you're bordering on _childish_."

Black leather entirely shed, Sephiroth looked over the shoulder of a body that had decidedly _nothing_ childish about it before starting towards the showers.

"Nothing you say can possibly trigger me, so stop trying so hard."

Genesis followed his friend into the showers after having gotten rid of his last articles of clothing; they eeled their way in between the Second Class, bodies enveloped in the warm, perfumed clouds of condensation. Sephiroth seemed perturbed; after curling his sopping hair into a thick rope and heaving it over one shoulder, he twisted around to lay his fingers on the slashes at his waist, fingertips following the lines up his ribs. Genesis watched him as he scrubbed at his arms, spikes of hair falling into his eyes.

"It was Chimera, wasn't it?"

Sephiroth didn't even glance up at him as he would've predicted. And then -

"Yes."

The fact that he'd let out the answer to the mystery as simply as that would've been disappointing, if he hadn't said it with such a strangely guilty intonation. Genesis couldn't help smiling at the fact that his little plan was finally hatching some kind of fruit after all this time, but seeing the marks gave him a feeling of foreboding rather than joy at the fact that his little protégé had succeeded in her seduction. Maybe it hadn't been _entirely_ fair on her after all, though he couldn't see how any girl could voluntarily spit on an opportunity of being thrown into the General's arms.

Sephiroth looked at him, white lashes weighed down by pearls of water. "Before you start with the questions, I'd rather not talk about it."

The redhead pretended to wince. "That bad, was she?"

"No," his friend said with alarming automatism. Goddess, that wasn't _appreciation_ that he could see profiling itself on the man's face, was it? "She's definitely the least terrible of the girls you've put in my way."

"Be careful or I might think you just gave her a compliment," Genesis railed him, trying not to worry about just how many of his plans had been that obvious to his friend.

"You all seem to have this pre-established idea that I'm a complete arse around women," Sephiroth protested.

"Oh, well I wonder where _that _might come from."

"I compliment girls."

"Just not hookers."

"Because they're hookers."

Genesis snorted. "Astounding arguments you've got there."

"_Look_," Sephiroth sighed, but Genesis wouldn't have it.

"Saying _look_ isn't going to convince me any more than your whorephobic argumentation," the Soldier said, "Your opinion that selling one's body is like selling one's soul is about as archaic as the pattern of thought that shackles someone's personality to their gender."

"I don't think it's so _archaic_ to be mentally in correlation with my own body," Sephiroth smirked, "Just because you're hopelessly bisexual doesn't mean you're _modern_, and I old-fashioned."

The redhead laughed aloud at that. "You won't make me believe you're the last of the manly men. This is _Midgar_ for crying out loud. You can't afford to be so binary."

"I know it breaks your heart, Gen," Sephiroth said, stepping out of the showers and reaching for a towel, "But I'll never fuck you."

"Oh!" The broken-hearted man grabbed at his chest playfully. "Please. Don't say that."

Sephiroth successfully veered the conversation to other subjects after that; he'd long since stopped finding these types of discussions awkward, having rather grown bored of their recurrence. As passionate as Genesis might be about these things, he was curiously loath to encourage dialogue at the slightest hint of sexual interaction between the both of them, even as a jest. His conversational capacity seemed limitless, except in one or two domains where he bizarrely shut down – Sephiroth found it rather entertaining to find which domains would shut him up, especially seeing as it gave him a defense mechanism if the man was bent on irritating him.

After they'd shrugged on their civilian clothes, they headed to the labs to give back the materia they'd tested. The lab assistants that manned the desk seemed to give Genesis the cold shoulder as they stirred, keeping their sad little affections for his silver-haired counterpart.

"How was the Bahamut?"

"Functional," Sephiroth said in clipped tones, having noted the favoritism. He rolled the heavy crystalline ball across the desk, one of the assistants catching it and handing the man a performance slip to fill. Genesis came up beside his friend, not quite understanding why they were being so unfriendly as he received his own slip.

"Everything alright in the labs?" He muttered as the two elite Soldiers scribbled their observations.  
"Oh, everything's alright, yeah," the blond assistant snapped, "Nothing like mass redundancies to encourage you to do you job."

Sephiroth glanced up inquisitively. "What?"

"Haven't you seen the posters?"

"You're not telling me they're giving that propagandist shit any weight?" Genesis stated, feeling the familiar cold dread at the mention of AVALANCHE, which in his mind was synonymous to the political clusterfuck that he'd helped set into motion.

"They've made serious accusations against Soldier," the blond assistant said bluntly. "And the blame falls on us."

Sephiroth glanced at his friend, clearly willing him to just get the slip over and done with and get out of there – it would've been the understatement of the year to say that the man was a little sensitive about the political situation at the moment, seeing as he took himself for the catalyst.

"I'll talk to Hojo," the silver-haired man assured them, giving them back the hastily filled slip and hoisting the strap of his leather bag higher on his shoulder.

"Come on."

The assistants clearly gave him a look which meant _A fat lot of good that'll do us_ as they stowed away the paperwork.

"Here." The redheaded elite slid his paper across the desk to them a little violently. "And tell Hojo he can stuff his fucking Chocomog up his - "

"Genesis."

• • •

The wine swiveled around in its glass, leaving an oily sheen along the crystal walls as it went. Only businessmen and insomniacs stayed up this late at the Condor, and it was a known fact that nobody bought the Condor's wine to actually appreciate the quality of the Chateaus. Genesis could've gone to a better place, him being a known fundamentalist when it came to the finer things in life, but right now he just didn't give a damn.

Recurrent thoughts whirred in his mind like a spinning fog, images rearing and collapsing in the vapors. Sitting at a booth alone in the middle of the night with cheap wine in his hand reminded him of those precious nights during his first months in Midgar, having had the very first contacts with the General and needing to subject his mind to some serious introspection in order to properly get over them. The initial jealousy had been pricked and inflated by the admiration that Sephiroth commanded in all that set eyes on him; it was impossible to get rid of the image of him once you'd spent time with him, either sparring or in simple conversation. The thought that this superior entity was actually allowing him some sort of attention, admitting him into his exclusive circle, sacrificing time only for him was something that the simple Banoran couldn't quite register in the beginning. He'd come to Midgar with the objective of toppling the man – not become hopelessly infatuated by the legend, the prestige of being associated to him. But that was precisely the problem – Genesis Rhapsodos was _nothing_ when he wasn't associated to the General. Sometimes he crumbled under the idea that it was only thanks to their relationship that he'd attained any kind of identity in this place, and he couldn't _stand it_. Because on the one hand he wanted nothing more than to _become_ Sephiroth, and on the other there was that shred of self-worth that was so whittled down that he wasn't even sure if it still existed – that little notion of self-preservation that tried to hold his own personality afloat.

Perhaps he'd underestimated just how destructive jealousy could become – just how effectively it would warp any type of friendly relationship he thought he entertained with his nemesis. Sometimes images of the silver-haired man bearing down on him would come back to him, and according to the mood, he would be either murderous or aroused – either proud, or full of self-loathing – always, always confused, and sometimes he just couldn't bear it. Couldn't think of the long list of impossibilities, couldn't think of the bloody extents of self-sacrifice to which he was entirely capable of going if it only gained him a sliver of what Sephiroth had, of what he was, of what defined him.

He tilted back his head, the wine burning his throat with cheap acidity, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the images of the General's bare skin, the long strands of white hair sticking wetly against muscular curves, the leather clinging to him jealously and giving him that ever-present musky scent – the sight of such perfection, coupled with the one that reigned due to an utter absence of trip-ups in all aspects of his personal and professional life, it just set something _ablaze_ in the redhead's chest, and it hurt so much – the type of ache that is totally alien to someone who's used to real physical pain that has real, physical causes.

Sometimes, he hated the man just _so damn much_.

And sometimes…

He could feel his throat burning with something else than the wine, and he set the glass down clumsily, hand searching his pockets for his phone.

•

"Mr Rhapsodos, sir! It's a pleasure to hear from you. It's been a while."  
Hegemony perked up – she was lounging in the Honeybee waiting room, making conversation with a few girls since business hadn't picked up yet.

"No, you stay here," Harmony said playfully, grabbing her arm and forcing her to sit when the woman tried to unfold her legs. "You've done enough prancing around for a month."

"And you should play cold and unattainable," one of the younger girls put in, accent marring her words.

"Are you kidding? I haven't seen him in ages," Gem told them with a breathless grin, though she stayed put, "He's been the _cold and unattainable _one, that slippery bastard. I thought he'd died."

"And you miss him so much, don't you?" Harmony said, poking her in the side, "Your little masochist student - "

"If he hasn't manifested himself it's just that he's been busy," Gem assured them, "And when you're in Sephiroth's entourage, your quota of masochism probably gets filled regardless of whether the practices are sexual or not."

"Yeah, yeah," Harmony said, lifting her pointy heels so that she was resting her legs across Gem's lap, "Or maybe he _has _died."

"Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you."

"To see you grovel in the dirt with us? Definitely." She grabbed the brunette around the neck and forced her head down playfully. "Down in the mud!"

"Or maybe he's given himself over to the other side of his sexuality," the young girl added.

"No Upperworld man stands a chance against what I can give him!" Gem let out, struggling out of Harmony's grip. "I'm his fucking goddess!"

The banter went on, the girls roughing each other up a little, but after they'd calmed down they realized it had been at least a few minutes and Boss still hadn't called anyone to his office. They couldn't hear any voice coming from that direction either. Gem looked down at her colleagues with a grin that hid a blooming apprehension, before getting up from the sofa.

Boss was probably just getting the paperwork done… perhaps it wouldn't do to seem too eager and burst into his office to ask what was going on, where she'd meet up with him, all that. But she couldn't help the bubbling feeling of anticipation that was always there at the prospect of seeing her… pupil. Her gatekeeper to the world of luxury. She lingered at the door to Boss's office, hearing a faint voice… he was organizing something, it would never do to disturb him. But why hadn't he notified her of anything before going on to other business?

She knocked. Pulled down the handle. Stepped in. Boss looked up at her while he acquiesced on the phone, frowning at her slightly. She pointed at herself; he shook his head.

"Yes, well," he continued the conversation, "I don't usually allow this type of interaction while the girl is in another booking, but since it's you, I think we can come to an arrangement."

Gem stared at him; after catching his attention again she mouthed _Genesis?_ He nodded at her, before making a shooing motion with his hand. Heart in her throat, the woman backed out of the office slowly enough to catch any more information he might let out.

"Yes, she's at the Intra Meum dressing rooms with the other dancers. The repetitions will last until next Wednesday if you want to know… Oh, perfect. Well, you'll see her perform then. Keep me informed about the payment if you want to make any more bookings while she's there. Yes. My pleasure."

She couldn't help it. The door burst open, an angry Mohawk-topped woman striding in and standing before her boss in all her fuming glory.

"Yes, _what is it?_" Boss asked her rather impatiently as he set down the phone.

"Was that Genesis?"

"Yes."

"And he wasn't asking for me."

Boss heaved a sigh, looking up at his worker with an irritated gaze that hid a certain pity. "No, Hegemony, he wasn't asking for you. You might do well to remember that this is a very liberal business."

She didn't want to ask the question that burned her lips, because she knew the answer already – she just wouldn't believe it until someone confirmed it for her. She knew Chimera had been booked by the new patron to perform at Midgar's celebrated five-star cabaret, the Intra Meum, for Goddess knows what reason since the girl couldn't dance to save her life. She couldn't help feeling that it all stank of political plotting; all the girls had wondered how their profession would be like under Delaine, and they'd all seen changes in scenery since that fateful night. But none so much as Chimera, who'd gone from peaceful anonymity to sudden fame for no fathomable reason.

Boss was pretending not to notice her as she stood there, but the next time he lifted his eyes he saw so much pain in her contracted brow that he allowed himself another sigh, leaning forwards as though he were about to sermon a small child.

"It's her, isn't it?" Hegemony let out in calm tones, though he could see the rage creeping up her throat in red patches. She would've accepted any other girl – a girl that she wasn't particularly fond of, that she hadn't taken under her wing and personally educated in the art of womanhood. A girl that didn't have an enormous potential of emotionally ensnaring any living being that she approached.

"He was never yours, Hegemony."

She turned in whirl of black braids, striding out of the office, out of the Inn, out into the darkness of Sector 6.

• • •

Boss had notified her of who was coming, and Aeris had been frankly terrified for the past half hour, trying to clear up the glittery mess of her dressing room. She hadn't met the other main dancer yet; for the past week she'd been working with a choreographer and the secondary dancers so that she might loosen up a bit and learn how to do freestyle without looking like a rampant chocobo. What was he – why was he coming to see her _alone_ like this? She'd never done any business with the man that didn't include a third party to whom her services were destined. Maybe he wanted to see her about… about what had happened? Her fingertips skidded absently over the cold surface of the Esuna that hung around her neck. That was it. He'd come to give her his own apology, at last.

When he arrived, she'd only just finished constructing her confident façade; but what she saw upon opening her door made all artificial attitude crumble in the wake of a rather fearful compassion; he was all in black under his trademark leather coat, hair falling across his face in disheveled spikes after having apparently braved the rain outside. The droplets gathered at his chin after traveling down his cheeks and threading through his lips; Aeris couldn't help stepping backwards, and he interpreted the movement as an invitation. He nodded at her, stepping in.

"I hope I'm not intruding."

It was just around 3am, so it was a bit rich of him to say that - but Boss had effectively woken her so she'd been able to pummel her sleep-inflated face into something slightly more feminine. He brushed past her as he came in, humidity seeping through the thin fabric of her nightie, and she didn't even have to smell the wine to tell that he was drunk - he discarded his red leathers over a chair in one swipe, sitting down as if to hide his uneven stride. The dressing room wasn't that big, only intended for one person – there was a queen-sized mattress on the floor in one corner, two chairs and a long desk in front of the traditional light-bulb-outlined mirrors. Heart thumping though her tiredness took the edge off of her fear, Aeris sat down on the edge of the mattress, absently tucking her cold feet under the duvet and facing her guest.

She watched him as he ran those long, lithe fingers over his face, wiping away the rain. He was leaning towards her, elbows on his knees betraying his exhaustion.

"It's really late," she couldn't help saying, as though protesting his presence.

"You didn't stay awake especially for me, did you?" he asked, electric blue eyes slithering up to gaze at her.

"I did, actually," Aeris stammered, smiling nervously, "I mean, it wasn't like I had a choice. I'd never let you catch me off guard in the middle of the night."

Genesis afforded her a smile. She took in this informal appearance of his that she saw so little of; rain-darkened jeans, and a black turtle-neck jumper that made him look oddly… cuddly. When the term entered her head she could've slapped herself for how inappropriate it was – he was a Soldier elite after all. But it just stuck so _well_ right now. Funny, how she'd been reticent about any contact with human males outside of work because of the disgust that she'd borne them ever since the incident, and now all she wanted to do was give this man a hug. Her intention had been foiled since the hospital, really, so maybe that was the explanation. Or maybe she just needed one, too.

She wondered why he looked so tired. Her speculation started going beyond whether or not he wanted to have her as she realized that he might not be feeling very well. It seemed unnatural to her, to greet him with anything else than empathy – he might be the source of all her trouble, but he never really had a direct hand in any of it, and he'd been the one to haul her out of the slums night after night without even asking anything of her for himself. It might be unbelievably naïve for her to feel grateful, but… well, she was.

"I'd offer you something to drink but I don't really have much in here," she ventured.

"Don't worry," Genesis said, vaguely waving a hand as he broke off his gaze. A few seconds went by before he looked down at her again with those piercing blue eyes.

"Did he hurt you, Aeris?"

Her real name coming out of those lips made her shiver, goosebumps pricking her skin as she sat there and felt the looming, unspoken consequences of him knowing her identity. But she'd prepared herself mentally for this conversation; the answer came out readily enough, though it was much more difficult to admit it to the man's face than to her mirror.

"Yes, he did." She couldn't actually look at him when she said it. But at least now he knew. She could still feel his gaze on her as she fiddled absently with the duvet… she wanted nothing more than to just go back to sleep, but his presence in the room held her on alert.

"I didn't intend for that to happen," Genesis told her softly, "I mean… I know the man, but I didn't think he'd be capable of going anywhere at all with you, let alone somewhere violent."

"I don't blame you," Aeris told him, offering him a smile. She was the martyr here, and yet he looked strangely lost, sitting there wringing his hands and frowning. "I made my own decisions, and so did he."

"I'm sorry," the redhead said again, bowing his head as though to hide his expression; Aeris wouldn't pretend to understand his attitude, especially as he was drunk, but nevertheless she found herself edging towards him on her knees, hands coming up to take hold of his shyly so that he might stop his nervous wringing. "I shouldn't have included you in this."

"In what, exactly?" She asked him as gently as she could so that she wouldn't betray the eagerness at finally understanding what it was that he wanted from her. But then one of his hands escaped hers in a smooth brush of skin, fingers coming to touch her face as he looked up at her again.

"You're far too good to be nothing but a pawn," he murmured, "Far too innocent."

She'd tried to prepare herself for what it meant to be booked for the night by this man, but it still didn't prevent her heartbeat from tripling when he leaned in; her breath came in uneven gasps as he hesitated on the brim of her lips, almost nuzzling her, nudging the cold tip of his nose against hers. All thought was erased from her mind other than the hesitation of being the first to catch the other – then he laid his hands on her throat and jaw, bringing her, pulling her towards him. His mouth melted over hers, teeth gripping her lower lip, tongue lashing to touch her own and sending a delicious shiver down her spine. She'd thought that perhaps she'd manage to seduce him into telling her the truth – or even beg him, intimidate him somehow, at least find a way to get him to tell her – but it all seemed insignificant now next to the conflicting sensations that the kiss made her feel. She shouldn't let him do this; Gem loved him, he knew who she was, he was manipulating her and pushing her into harm's way and so in no way deserving of her consent – _he knew who she was -_ she was showing weakness by giving in so easily without getting what she wanted … but refusing to acknowledge all of this made her wonderfully giddy with defiance, and... she just didn't want to intellectualize any more. She was just as tired as he was, and he tasted of rain and red wine and... and he'd leave right afterwards, being the scoundrel that he was. And that suited her perfectly well.

•

The tears were streaking down Hegemony's face as she wandered across the garbage labyrinth of the slum Sectors; she hadn't even kept track of where she was. She was struggling so hard not to give in to blind jealousy, to a base hatred that Chimera hardly even deserved. But how was she supposed to keep a clear head, when she had no idea what the hell she felt for anyone involved in this mess – how was she supposed to be fair, to be _fair_, when no one around her seemed to respect her in the slightest?

She thought of his skin, of her bright little eyes, of his expression when he'd throw back his head and give himself to the lustful abandon of climax – and she ground her teeth against the yell that threatened to rip out of her throat, grabbing her guns and aiming up at the plate so far above her, out of reach.  
She imagined them entwined, and pulled the trigger, again, again, _again_.

•

Genesis had never been so passionate with anyone, and that was saying a lot. Perhaps because he wasn't in his right mind, and the only thing that seemed vital in this whole affair was the fact that _he'd_ touched her, even though it had been brutally – his fingertips traced skin where Sephiroth's hands had been, and the redhead was too drunk to care about just how twisted it was to make love to a phantom, to a figment of his imagination. He wouldn't let her overcome him, greedily claiming every part of her body with his mouth, following the paths of imaginary fingers – he couldn't breathe for the pleasure of it, and it was only when she quietly begged for him to take her that he toppled over onto his back, closing his eyes and letting her take command.

She was entirely naked, and she made quick work of his clothes, yanking his jumper up over his head and crushing the expanse of her torso against his warm, bare skin – his hands travelled up her back, fingers coming to dig into her hair as he let her kiss his throat. He imagined that those lips had graced that flawless, musk-scented skin, and the mere thought made him groan as she continued down his chest, his ribs, the hard plains of his stomach… His eyes were closed, facing away from her. Then her hands ripped away his jeans and she straddled him, little hands coming to press against his pectoral muscles. He looked up at her as she hesitated, and she smiled at him shyly, a blush stealing across those rosy cheeks as he beheld her. Loose chestnut hair flowed down her back like a great glistening net, tickling his waist, framing her nudity, and for a split second he had a sparing thought for how unfair it was to take advantage of such a beauty for naught else than his own selfish impulses, but he just didn't care enough to follow up on the thought. He grasped her wrists, one hand travelling up her arm and stroking her face with his very fingertips… and she lowered herself onto him, brow furrowing as she took him into her, slowly, slowly – he gasped, head back, Adam's apple straining against skin as she took over. And when she leaned over him, the sweet-smelling net of her hair caressed either side of his torso and in his mind, it was snow, it was white silk, and the breaths that escaped her were the ragged breaths of a man that he could never have, that he could never _be_…

He locked his arm around her waist and overcame her easily, forcing her down on the mattress and sliding an arm under her knee as he took her – he thought he saw a look of fear flitter across her face and he imagined that this position wasn't entirely unfamiliar. And of course, he relished the detail, sparks of wanton pleasure skittering along the small of his back, running through the core of his limbs as he watched his hands morph, becoming larger, more elegant, more _him_ – Sephiroth's ghostly presence seemed so tangible at that moment, so _real_, that the redhead could hardly contain himself any longer. He freed Aeris' leg, leaning over her so that she might curl those long white limbs around his waist. And if only to prolong the pleasure, he tried to look at her, tried to _see _her – tried to acknowledge that she was the only real entity in this room, the only person with whom he was sharing anything.

Her hands came up to his face as he planted his own on either side of her head. And as they moved in perfect synchrony she frowned up at him, moss-green eyes full of something like pleasure-clouded anxiety. Then he noticed there were pearls of water glistening on her collarbones, on her cheeks – they slid with the movement, tracing glittering paths down her skin, and it was only when her fingers smudged the wetness over his cheekbones that he realized he was crying.

Her forearms came around the back of his head and she forced him down to meet her, kissing him, salt residue spoiling her earthy taste. There was a word on her tongue – _Don't_ – but he couldn't hear, didn't care to hear, didn't want her to care either. She wasn't allowed to care; the only thing that bound them together in his mind was completely insubstantial, and yet how it pierced him through and through. Could she even feel it at all…?

_Don't, _she whispered in his ear, and he wished she wouldn't, because it brought to mind so many memories – the pain, the fear, the feeling of inadequacy but _Don't cry, it gets better, trust me - _a hand extended, feline eyes flashing, and the sudden uplifting feeling of something like disembodiment, or love, or however you call it -

And then it was surging through his veins, and he held the man, the woman, the entity – he held this warm body against him as he surrendered himself to pure sensation. The words were in his throat, burning, lacerating him, and the feeling was like a white-hot pulse in the centre of his ribcage, and if he didn't let it out it would consume him, and he'd be nothing more than ash -

_I love you.  
_

_I fucking love you.  
_

But he didn't say it, and she didn't hear it. Or maybe she did, but had enough delicacy not to respond to something that wasn't intended for her. And he gave in to his exhaustion, lying there in her arms with his ear against her heart while she fought to hold back tears, though she didn't quite understand why.

• • •


End file.
